Okay let me explain you a thing about little inner-city apartments, about little slices of domesticity sewn out of old brick and DIY plaster, filled with rag-tag people that you have assembled as a family unit, with indie music on low and laughter and dwindling bottles of wine. Where the cat is always asleep atop your computer and your best dress and stockings are tossed on the couch and your faulty window opens to a planted box full of herbs and the steamy buzz of the city below. Where take out from your favorite deli awaits you in the fridge and work is only a bus-ride away and the city comes right up the meet you at night, swilling in with the night wind and tugging at your hair and sweater until you venture out into it. There’s something truly magical about a tiny well-kept apartment filled with treasured people, something more exquisite than anything in the world, I think.
We’ve been married for 16 years. We’ve both gotten a bit rounder than we used to be, but what isn’t hotter has grown warmer. I have to admit I never really understood how growing older would be when I was younger. Let me see if I can explain what I mean.
When I see my wife now, it’s like looking at a person in a time warp. She has a certain smile that takes me back to a memory of our honeymoon. There is a mischievous grin that puts me inside a moment when we were still dating. She has these little hairs that curl right below her ear that make me think of the first morning I woke up with her next to me.
There are so many layers now; such a deep, wonderful complexity about how she makes me feel when I see her. She’s like a succulent dish that has been prepared by a master chef. Or a rich, velvety wine with that perfect blend of buttery smoothness and dry finish. She is my heart, my love, truly my better half. She helps me to be the kind of man and father I’ve always wanted to be.
Am I attracted to her? Oh, god, yes. No matter how we look now, I see her across all the years as a kind of gestalt vision of who she is and what she means to me. She is the most interesting and attractive person I’ve ever had in my life. No one else even comes a close second.
Sometimes you just need to wear huge sweatpants and surround yourself with pillows and blankets and lay on your floor and eat a bowl of ice cream and watch Finding Nemo. It restores you and makes you feel good. I fully believe that sometimes, being unhealthy is the healthiest thing you can do for yourself.
I will always reblog this, so fucking true
You know how people buy drinks for girls in bars? Why can’t people do that in book stores? Like if I’m looking at a novel in Barnes and Noble and some person walks up to me and strikes up a conversation and offers to buy the book for me there is a lot better chance of that working out in their favor
I’m going to reblog this until it’s a cultural norm.