We missed night 7, since I had a “girls night” and N went to bed early. I felt too guilty to wake him up at 1:00am just so he could wax poetic about me.
Night 8 was spent in Wisconsin, at his parents’ house. We’re going on vacation in a week and wanted to do a “test run” leaving our puppy at their house. We also went to a going away party for a German, (one of N’s friends,) held outdoors with free beer at a Brat House in the city. It was 90 degrees but felt like 190. I couldn’t pay attention to the conversation because of the heat and felt like passing out. I drank ice water instead of free beer, (that’s how I know I’m old,) and only asked to go home twice.
We got home at 11pm and slept in his parents’ bed, since they had fallen asleep in the living room and second bedroom, respectively.
N: I love that you don’t complain when I bring you to events like that.
Me: I love that you invite me to come along.
Every Friday morning we weigh our dog. She’s a 5 month old rescue who we’ve had since the beginning of the summer, but we still don’t know what kind of dog she is. Everyone at the dog park has an opinion about her breed, (we’ve heard everything from yellow lab to beagle to terrier to german shepherd,) but I think she’s the result of a chihuahua/fox love tangle. To weigh our mystery mutt, N stands on the scale holding her, then weighs himself and subtracts the difference. She’s up to 18 lbs., but definitely not the lab the shelter said she was.
What happened next was terrible.
N was in the dining room with the dog, writing her new weight on the list, and I dumbly wandered onto the scale… just to see. I saw that I’ve gained 5 lbs. since moving in with N just 2 months ago. 176.5. WHAT?!? I stepped off and on again, to make sure it wasn’t broken. There it was again. 176.5. 176.5!? Horrible. Terrible. But nobody has to know. Maybe I can invest in an extra tight corset, or save up for liposuction. All of a sudden here comes N, laughing and running up to see the number. I naturally scream for him to get away and I try to cover the LCD screen with my foot. Too late.
N: 176?!? Oh my god!
It was a real reaction. He wasn’t trying to be funny, he was actually shocked. I stood frozen until finally the number cleared. I ran out of the room, flounced myself onto the edge of the couch and buried my chubby face into a pillow.
Muffled Me: I’m fat.
My eyes were now brimming with tears.
N: Can you fit onto a bus seat?
N: Do you need to stop and catch your breath when you walk up the porch steps?
N: Do you shop at the Plus Sized section of Dress Barn? No you don’t. You’re not fat. [A kiss on the temple.] I love you.
And somehow, magically, that’s all I needed to hear.
Me: I love your butt. Also, I love that you’re handy around the house.
N: I love that you let me have sex with you.
I told him that didn’t count, but he insisted it was true and that there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
N: I love that we’re so similar.
Me: How do you figure?
N: We both have an eye twitch in our right eyes.
Me: I love that you’re honest and open with me.
N: About what?
Me: About everything.
I killed approximately 40 ants in the kitchen yesterday. I also killed 2 spiders which were hiding in the washing machine, a wasp that tried to get into the house when I was calling the dog back inside, a mosquito on my leg, and a moth that flew out of a pile of damp towels in the basement. (“Asi es la vida”, at least when you live on a peninsula surrounded by lakes.)
I wasn’t planning on telling him about any of the bugs until he got home from work, at which time I would go ape-shit-crazy explaining how disgusting it is, and demand we move far away from the lake as soon as possible.
He came home with 2 bouquets of daises.
“What’s this for?” I asked while my arms wrapped tightly around his neck and my nose nestled into the little dent under his ear.
“You put up with the ants,” he replied.
Me: I love that you get me flowers for no reason.
N: I love that you don’t freak out about ants.
I don’t go back to teaching until mid-August, so my days are pleasantly free when they’re not spent unpacking boxes from my move. Yes, I moved in with a boy before marriage. Past Me would be ashamed! Mom’s old adage popped into my head a lot at first,
“Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?”
…but I’ve since developed an adage of my own:
“He’d better buy the cow or she’ll grind his sausage into a patty,” which I like much better.
So I moved in with N.
According to N, I was supposed to spend my day planning our vacation to the east coast, but I ended up reading online blogs about other people’s vacations instead. To make up for it, (and to distract him from my lack of planning,) I made Tex Mex Chili Chicken Cups for dinner. (See recipe here. They are delicious!) The Tex Mex Chili Chicken Cups were inspiration for our loves last night.
N: I love that you cook awesome dinners that I can actually say are good. Not just because you made them and I feel obliged, but because they actually taste awesome.
Me: I love your sense of humor.
Then he farted out some Tex Mex Chili Chicken Cup gas and rolled over to go to sleep. I’m pretty sure I do love him infinite ways, but at times like that I can’t help but wonder,
“Why buy a whole pig just for one sausage?”
N: I love your cute smile.
Me: I love the way you let me curl my leg around your leg when we’re ready to go to bed, even when you’re hot and want me to go away.
Looks like he’s going with the Lever 2000 method. A good start.
I made a rule last night. I was letting my mind wander and ended up with the thought bubble, “If you’re really in love with someone, wouldn’t there be an infinite number of things you love about them?” I said it out loud. (My brain-mouth filter has never functioned quite properly).
N rolled his eyes at me and tried for the 3rd time that night to turn off the light.
Bed time is at once my favorite and least favorite time of the day. I love laying there, next to N, letting him hog the covers which I kick off my too hot legs. I feel like, in that moment, we are closer than any other time of day. I feel like I’m safe to admit anything or say whatever I please. I also know, however, that it’s instantly over when the wall mounted reading lamp above the headboard gets switched off.
“If you’re really in love with someone, wouldn’t there be an infinite number of things you love about them?” I ignored his eye rolling, turned the light back on, and kept thinking out loud. “I think we should make a rule, that before bed every night, we each have to say one thing we love about the other person. No repeating, no sarcasm allowed, and we have to do it even when we’re fighting.”
“That’ll last about 2 days,” N has always had an insurmountable appreciation for my late night insights.
“According to Lever soap, there are over 2000 parts of the body alone, so we should get through… a few years at the very least. I’ll go first.”
This is actually the part where I forget what we said next. (My memory; ay caramba!) Our first night of “loves”, and I can’t even remember what we said. In an effort to remember everything we love about each other from now on, I’m going to make a list.
Infinite things I love about you.