You’re my favorite. You’re who I think about most often. Rarely does a second pass that I’m not wondering how your day is going, or how you’re feeling, or what you’re up to. I love cuddling you, I love being close to you, I love spending my day with you and talking to you. If I really wanted to save time I’d talk only about the things I don’t like about you. So here goes.

Ok, that’s it, that’s the complete list of everything that I don’t like about you. It was exhaustive, too. I dove into the depths of my mind and my heart and dredged everything up that I don’t like about you, and that’s what I came up with.

Two years. It’s already been two years and some change. It’s not surprising to me that we’re still together, but I am not at all used to this. I’m used to relationships where talking becomes as easy as going down a slide covered in sandpaper. I’m used to petty arguments about things that don’t matter, that drag both people down, that cause the big problems to be overlooked because if we can’t agree on even the smallest shit- we’re already fucked. I’m accustomed to dispensing entirely with pleasantries, with not caring enough to try anymore because I got myself into a relationship with a person who wants me to be someone I’m not, and conversely with someone I only thought I wanted or could want. But here we are, having made it two years that feel as subtle as two months, but with no less intense love than the very beginning. If anything, every day waters more seeds of appreciation. I love you so very much. I truly do. I appreciate you with a depth that I barely grasp the language skills to describe. When we’re apart I feel a longing no less intense than if I were missing a physical piece of myself. I need your energy in my life. I need your heart next to mine. I need to spend my waking moments doting on you, cuddling you, showing you physical and emotional appreciation.

How do you do it? How do you make me so happy? Why is it that you’re so easy to get along with, that all your thoughts and feelings are insightful or that you’ve deigned me worthy of knowing? I can only hope that I make you half as happy as you make me, because even that would be an incredible and notable intensity.

I know I’m not perfect. I know that we both have our flaws and that we both have experienced reminders that we’re both still human even though we’ve found in each other what we feel are the best partners. And that’s just it, isn’t it? That the rare few arguments we’ve had did not change the nature of what we have. That neither of us sees any cause or reason to question what we’ve found in each other. I’ve never been loved before in the way that you love me. I’ve never even posited that I’m worthy of being loved how you love me, with your mind, body, and soul. You’re so intelligent that I daily question my worthiness. In that razor sharp wit you’ve honed it’s easy to see that your opinions are not uninformed. You’re so beautiful. If you could see yourself through my eyes you’d have a healthy self esteem boost, that’s for sure. As much as you lay claim to “realism” I really don’t find your own self-assessments to be rooted in it. From your pale emerald eyes to your cute eyebrows and wholly juicy and kissable lips, I am enamored with you. Believe it or not, I do get to enjoy your beauty on two very distinct levels. I get to appreciate your external beauty, and I do daily. I also get to appreciate the beauty of your heart and who you are as a person. Those parts of you both make me feel two different things. I get to lust after you and I get to bathe in the warmth of your soul.

One thing is for sure: You make me feel like the luckiest man alive. I thank you for that. I love you.