Something to be grateful for.

Everyone said, “don’t have a list”.
“You’ll never find Mr Right if you have a list. It’s too prescriptive,” they said.
But of course I had a list. Not having a list is like going shopping for shoes without knowing the colour, style, heel type, toe style, material or price range and expecting the perfect pair to magically appear and match every outfit in your wardrobe.

Mine was a relatively specific list, but I was prepared to wait to have at least most of the “requirements” ticked off. I noted things like:

• must have straight, white teeth
• must have a strong, biggish nose
• must be a few years older (men my own age have not stood the test well and there’s something super sexy about someone a little bit older…)
• must have blue eyes and brown hair.
• must have good sized ears. (I dated a man once who had small ears, it was weird).

Then when I wasn’t so superficially preoccupied, I added:

• must make me laugh
• must laugh at my jokes
• must be easy going
• must not be moody (I’m moody enough, thank you very much)
• must be able to deal with me and my many other personalities
• must get along with my friends
• must must must love dogs and animals in general
• must love all music (except country and western, I can forgo having to listen to country and western)
• must have travelled and be interested in travel
• must like curry and food in general
• must like alcohol and be good with it.

I’ve had this list since I was about 15, adding and subtracting where necessary. And as a result let’s just say dating was always a pretty boring occasion, until I met LSH. Unbelievably, he meets every single one of my criteria and so many more (and a fair few others that aren’t mentioned here). I often wonder if I ever meet any of his.

He’s my incredibly wonderful, unbelievably generous, totally selfless, caring, warm,  centred, funny, sarcastic, understanding, fun, patient (except when he’s driving),  sometimes argumentative, pissfit, smartass, tender, honest  and kind husband. 

I call him my Long Suffering Husband (LSH) partly because he’s a very private person and tends to merely tolerate my telling our stories both here and out in public with a laugh and a shake of the head, but also because he puts up with all my many idiosyncrasies and they are many. So plentiful are my slightly crazy habits that my mother once said she never thought any man would ever want to commit to me, but would rather have me committed.

He’s the warmest person I’ve ever met. It’s really hard to explain, but usually I feel kind of filled with a frenetic energy going in every direction. My emotions move up and down, while my thoughts go around and around. Yet, when I’m near LSH it all stops. I’m still because he is still. I am convinced his energy, which is so steady and centred, spreads to me when I am near him. Someone once said that talking to LSH was like smoking a good joint. That person was patently an idiot, but I understand the sentiment that was being expressed. Being near LSH, for me, is like taking a really deep breath and then exhaling. This all sounds so selfish. This is what he gives me. And I have to say I feel like it’s everything. I am not sure what I provide him in return, except perhaps a headache and maybe even hypertension..

I do know that I am the luckiest woman alive, I’m lucky to have even found LSH – what will all those criteria, let alone have him love me with the same limitless and never ending amount that I love him. 

Happy V day all and, in particular, my dearest LSH!