My mail comes to a very beautiful zipcode, a blessing I never take for granted. The man I wake up with everyday is profoundly smarter than me. Organizations that test these things have said so. Hell, even I think so. This isn't to say that my first husband wasn't smarter than me, but I didn't know it at the time and we both suffered for the oversight.
As the man I wake up with everyday, says, "It was a bad fit."
He writes songs about my temper.
He does all the laundry.
He does the dinner dishes.
He takes me shoe shopping.
He repairs the starter on a car when the manual says don't do this at home.
He knows a defense against the Ruy Lopez opening that side steps most of the Morphy Defense
He has blue eyes
He has silver in his curly hair
He's lived on the street and with the son's of oil, wine and publishing.
He knows the art of "Yes dear"
He play classical guitar and the banjo.
He buys me champagne on Tuesdays.
I'm mean to him sometimes, particularly when I feel like I'm flying apart. Today we leave for a trip to fix that...
Why do we work so hard to make relationships work and why do we have to?