Tuesday, 15 January 2013

what is shorter than an ode but just as gushy?

I was reading the internet today and discovered a blogger’s post about her husband.  I thought it was extremely heartfelt without being gushy, which is a hard distinction to achieve with just fuzzy old characters on the screen, words on the page.

It also made me think about P.  P is extremely awesome, but is also a private person (he talks a big game to people he has met in real life, but isn’t comfortable with internet oversharing of the variety in which I indulge).  Doesn’t stop me wanting to sing his praises to the wide world though.  I’m no longer in the infatuation phase of the relationship, which was wonderful but also terrible – what with the Will-He-Call-Like-He-Said-He-Would and Will-He-Run-For-the-Hills-If-I-Crack-Out-My-Flannelette-Jamies and Why-Can’t-I-Function-Like-A-Normal-Person-And-Stop-Mooning-About-Over-A-Boy parts of that phase; when I was 19 insecurity went hand-in-hand with infatuation.   But he still makes me grin, shiver, giggle and I find myself counting my blessings that P, P with all his generousness and loyalty and taste and oh, everything I could possibly want, has agreed to be my husband. 

Given his desire for privacy and the blatant paean above, that’s enough about that.  But don’t ever think I don’t appreciate him.  I should work more at making sure he knows that. 

In that spirit, I am arranging a wee surprise for his 30th bday, coming up in a couple of months.   I am entirely terrible at keeping surprises so this is going to be ridiculously hard.  While I shouldn’t think there is a great risk he’ll read this, I’m obviously already failing at this whole secretive enterprise already, having written about it on the internet.  You'll keep my secret, won't you?

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