Love is cooking each half of the flank steak to a different tenderness.
Love is having a side of the bed.
Love is deciding who deals with the garter snake, and who deals with bathroom spiders.
Love is compromising with 2% milk.
Love is shower-less road trips and toothpaste-free nights.
Love is choosing seats 42A and B next to the airplane bathroom, just to sit together.
Love is sharing the big popcorn.
Love is clearing the hair out of the shower drain without being asked.
Love is sleeping with cold feet because someone is hogging the comforter.
Love is agreeing to never shop at that store again.
Love is screaming until you make up.
Love is sitting through “Casino Royale” over and over and over again because it’s the only movie you agree upon.
Love is picking up the phone to say you’re running late.
Love is agreeing to like Jon Oliver a little more than Conan O’Brien but not as much as Aziz Ansari.
Love is having a system for the dishes.
Love is knowing when to just let it go.
Love is recognizing the one look which means: “I can’t believe what she just said but I’m going to pretend everything is normal until you and I can gossip on our way home.”
Love is really not noticing the few extra pounds.
Love is not having to worry about flirty waitresses or hunky pool boys.
Love is having a library of kisses with special meanings.
Love is allowing the other to take the ice cream bite with the most chocolate chip cookie dough chunks.
Love is finding silver linings in laughable hospital food.
Love is holding hands when nobody is looking.
Love is what we live… sun-up, sun-down, Sundays to Saturdays, around and upside down and back around again.
Love was, love is, and love will be.
P.S. Love is leaving your name off this post, because you wouldn’t want it here. xoxo
photocredit: Little Shop of Elle See