Happy Birthday To You

The boyfriend doesn’t like blogs. He’s not entirely sure what they are, or why they’ve enabled his sister and his girlfriend to become friends, but he doesn’t like them. So I’m pretty sure he’s not going to read this post. But has that stopped me before? No.

Today the boyfriend turns 24. 24! Dude, that means I’ve been making out with him for nearly a DECADE! That is NUTS!

The boyfriend doesn’t make a whole lot of appearances here, other than the odd photo and the usually more odd quote, which usually paints a picture of him as a man of random thoughts and awe-inspiring facial hair.

Sometimes, I feel like I just may not be doing him justice. There are plenty of naysayers in the world, people who want you to believe that what you have isn’t what you want, that it just isn’t possible for you to love who you love, or for you to stay in love with the kid you met in Art class your freshman year of high school, the kid who turned you down to a dance (not bitter) and on more than one occasion blocked your shot so hard in a game of one-on-one that you swore your forehead was broken. And to them I say, whatever man.

Not only can David lift heavy things (a bonus when my mom needs her furniture moved, or I need groceries carried) but he can also think heavy things (like how exactly DO snakes do it?). And there I go, making him into a character again.

I was out with a friend one night, talking about boys and life, when she said to me, “It must be nice, isn’t it? To go home and have someone who likes you, just likes you, so much.”

I hadn’t thought about it that way in awhile, but yeah, it IS so nice. It IS so nice to find a nice boy who grows into a great man, who grows into a person who is kind and intelligent, who is silly and serious, who has never wanted me to be anybody but just me.

So this is for David, who lends so much balance to my crazy life. Thank you for really big hugs, for your goofy-ass hair, for your perfect teeth (without the help of braces), for your love of kittens, for never even smashing a spider (even though I HATE that), for listening SO well, for chewing pencils, lint and paper, for making me laugh until my stomach hurts, for your love of the Olive Garden and your incredible handicapping skills, for your endless patience with those around you and your ability to school nearly anyone in basketball (so hot when you dunk that ball), for only owning ONE polo shirt and for never shaving your face when asked to. Thank you for being so true to yourself and so true to me.

We've managed to live together in the World's Smallest Apartment for nearly a year and we are both still alive with only emotional scars to show for it. All the things that make me crazy make you who you are, and I friggin love you.

Nora