Earlier I heard someone talking about how their friend’s boyfriend made their friend breakfast for her birthday. The girl talking and the girl she was talking too both said,
“Where did he COME from?!” and we shocked and amazed and how a man like that actually exists. I, on the other hand, got this really weird warm feeling in my chest. Because I am dating the man like that.
He holds me when I’m crying and listens to my girly meldowns.
He makes me breakfast or any other meal when I ask.
He takes me on dates.
He makes reservations.
He surprises me all the time.
He remembers anniversaries.
He trusts me.
He’s seccure in himself.
He kisses my forehead and my cheeks.
He holds my hand.
He holds my face when he kisses me.
He tickles me just to hear me laugh.
He’s funny.
He laughs at my jokes.
He watches girl movies with me.
He thinks the weird things I do are cute.
He thinks I look pretty with or without makeup. And tells me so.
He notices when I change my hair, or my makeup, or am wearing special perfume.
He gives me massages when my back hurts and when it doesn’t.
He takes care of me when I’m sick, even if he feels awful too.
He makes me mix cds filled with love songs.
He kisses me infront of his friends.
He stands up for me.
He plays with my hair until I fall asleep.
He dresses well all on his own.
He has great hair.
My mom loves him.
His parents love me and I love them.
He will lay around with me all day if I ask him to. Or even if I don’t ask.
He kisses me before he leaves for school in the morning.
He buys me jewelry.
He takes me places.
He holds my hand when I’m getting tattooed.
And not one day has gone by where he hasn’t told me how much he loves and cherishes me. Not one.
How did I get this lucky?
So many girls want a boy just like him.
And I got him?
Is lucky even a big enough word?
I am going to marry this one.
