*This post was changed a gazillion times after publishing so if you’re on Reader you should really click directly to the post.
Eeeks it’s Valentines Day and it is vital I write about Mr. Right.
Vital to my children’s well-being.
I’m about to get awfully romantical but patience, I only do this once a year.
At this moment I am perfectly aware I could talk about all my flaws and how Mr. Right tolerates them because he loves me.
Except my goodness, let’s not get too personal.
Or I could talk about all his flaws and how I tolerate them because I am certain he is becoming an incredible and wonderful and just spectacular man. I feel it in my married bones.
Except that might embarrass him.
I could mention that we sometimes have yucky times but I sort of don’t care because this far into it I see what that helps us become.
Except I’m not sure people would understand what I meant by that so let’s take another approach shall we?
(I am trying to write this and you, Mr. Right, won’t stop talking about your book. About Mr. Lincoln and his wife Mary. How kind of annoying she was.
Stop talking please, I want to think about you.)
Yesterday Mr. Right retold me a story of something that happened last year. Of something that somebody said to us.
I was with him when it happened so frankly the story was old toast, but last night he said, “And when that person said that I thought, ‘Oohhh, my Queen isn’t going to like that at all.’”
And ha ha, he was right. I hadn’t liked what they had said.
But I had not wanted to argue so I’d kept quiet (and then later I told Squishy how peeved I was.)
And Mr. Right watched me keep quiet.
And he even knew what I was thinking because yesterday he told me and he was spot on.
That’s the sweetest part.
That he notices me and he knows me.
(Oh look, Mr. Lincoln isn’t very entertaining because Mr. Right is nodding off.)
Here is my Valentine message for the bugs. It’s on true love.
True love not fictional.
Real love not hyped up romance.
I want the bugs to know that even though he doesn’t write romantic poetry I know Mr. Right likes me because he constantly asks my opinion and respects it.
Even though he forgets to always pay attention to me I know Mr. Right likes me because when I ask him to become a better person, he really tries to.
I know Mr. Right likes me because he often says, “I was at work and this happened and I thought, My Queen would…” (This means he thinks about me when I’m not around– oh my heart!)
I know that when Mr. Right notices I want something – he helps me get it.
Or when I need something – he makes sure I get it.
He may not notice everything but when he does notice he does something about it.
Thank heavens Mr. Right is not like the men in novels foolish women swoon over. I would rather have what he is then all that other nonsense.
(As a side note, when I do read about romantic heroes or watch chick flicks it makes me feel sweet on Mr. Right but now I’m turning pink with embarrassment.)
He is the real, sweet, flawed-but-trying, hardworking thing.
He is just right for me.