Home: love and whys
love and whys
There's a poem that starts "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..." The longer we are together, the more that poem makes sense to me. Because there are so many ways that I love you, and so many things that you do that make me love you. I'm a very lucky man.
You have the cutest blush. When I whisper in your ear that I want to spank you, and we're lined up to pay for something in a store, you have the cutest way of blushing and squirming at the same time.
You love my kids already. You care about them, and you want to help me be a better dad to them, even though it means dealing with "she who must be paid".
I love watching you plan things out - you are so meticulous, and so detail obsessed. And as I watch you, I try to be ready to handle things if they don't follow your plan. Your strength is planning, mine is improvising, and I love the way we complement each other's strengths.
I love the way you refuse to admit that you love being teased. I watch your reaction when I tease you, and I can see the wanton wench just below the surface. She shows more and more of herself as you get excited, and as I take control of you, and I love that you realize and accept this part of yourself.
I love that you don't expect me to be perfect. There are things that I do (and many that I don't) that I *know* have to irritate you - but you love me nonetheless. I love that you haven't put me on a pedestal so far. (They're narrow and uncomfortable to stand on)
I love that you ask me questions. Questions about politics. Questions about history. Opinions, facts, and observations. Endless conversation, wandering from topic to topic.
And you dimple when I ask YOU about something. I know that you have opions and expertise that are different than mine, and I love that I can ask *you* about things, and get a reasoned, intelligent response. (Frequently, a different opinion, too, which leads to more conversation.)
I love the way you worry about me. You understand, I think I'm taking care of myself reasonably well. I'm not perfect, and I have blind spots. But the fact that you worry, and that you want to take care of me is adorable.
I love the way you take so long to wake up in the mornings. The contrast between my waking and yours makes me laugh. I wake up and I'm ready to go, ready to get dressed, get reading, and go. You take anywhere from half an hour to an hour and a half to wake up. And during that time, you're dopey, cuddly and confused.
I love the way that you act the brat, hoping for me to put you in your place. And when I finally do put you in your place, you snuggle up to me, happy that things are still working right between us.
I love your obedience, but I love that you are just disobedient enough to be a challenge in a scene. Watching you transform from recalcitrant brat into wanton slut never fails to excite me.
I love the way you get embarassed at the things I say to you while you're excited - and the way that it makes you even MORE excited when I point it out to you.
So, angel, even when things are difficult, I love you. Count on it.
posted at 07:30 AM ::
filed under musings
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