The Way I Love You

You are obsessive, just like me. But you obsess over things that matter, like retirement funds and the best laptop to buy. I only had to tell you how obsessed you are a hundred times before one day you looked up from your latest research project and said, “You know, I think I might have an obsessive personality.” I already knew that about you.

You are focused and ambitious and hardworking. You know what you want and then you go and get it. I am a daydreamer and not a very good listener. I can’t decide if I want to eat dinner at the table or on the couch.

I know about the car you drove in high school because I rode in it as your friend, and as your fiance, and once on the day I became your wife. When your iPod is on shuffle it plays jazz and TI and Simple Plan, and an occasional church hymn. You do not like to re-watch movies. You’d pick The Wire or Mad Men over LOST or Friday Night Lights any day of the week and while I don’t disagree with you, I also do not agree with you.

You order Diet Coke whenever we share a drink because you know it’s my favorite. You say you tried to like it but you can’t shake the “diet” taste, and I think you’re crazy. I order my soda with no ice and you specify just a little ice, because you like watered down soda (kidding, but really that’s just what it ends up tasting like).

I’m the only person in the world who knows when you’re lying about your Tour de France knowledge, because I am also the only other person in the world who spent every July watching Lance Armstrong and Jan Ullrich with my dad.

You like the winter and the Utah Jazz, and Colorado, and sushi. You taught me how to use chopsticks, how to properly tip, and you were in the car one of the first times I ever drove on the freeway. I still gchat you whenever I need help with percentages or fractions. You drink more milk than anybody I have ever met and don’t like fruit, but you love apples. I think you do like fruit- you just won’t eat it on principle, like the time you claimed you didn’t have a Facebook but you actually would just disable it after logging in to creep on your friends.

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Nothing makes you more angry than the fact that McDonalds is always out of ice cream whenever we drive through for a chocolate sundae. I have known you my whole life and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you successfully purchase one. I like the way you care so much about the length of your suit jacket. Your favorite pizza is Pizza Hut (which is insane) and you don’t care that I bite my nails because you bite yours too.

I am beginning to understand that this is what love is: knowing. It’s all the seconds and moments that culminate into understanding. It’s not the watch you gave me for Christmas or the roses on Valentine’s Day. It’s knowing everything about you. It’s the fact that the only place I’d ever like to be is riding shotgun in our car listening to one of the only mix CDs we have which includes crowd pleasers like “Hey Juliet” by LMNT and “End of the Road” by Boyz II Men. That’s the way I love you.

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