Why I Love My Husband

In the spirit of Valentine's Day (disclaimer: I've always thought this day was a crock of hooey), I've decided to sing the praises of Brian, who puts up with more crap than any husband ever should. In a nice long convo with my BFF Alissa yesterday, we discussed how hard it is (especially, apparently, in Los Angeles, where boys are jerks and only want Barbies) to find someone nice, normal and somewhat responsible. I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve this, or when it will come back to bite me in the ass, but I've found that person and have managed to keep him for almost seven years now. It's remarkable, really, when you consider how many people there are in the world and how few of those actually know you. And then when you narrow that small list down to the people who not only know you, but will also put up with you, it seems like quite a miracle to find love.

But I have.

In case you don't know the story, Brian was the childhood friend of my college friend, Cady. They were prom dates once, and since their parents were such good friends, Brian and his parents wound up at an anniversary party for Cady's parents in 2001. The party was at the beach, and I, one whose love for the beach is endless, took Cady up on her offer to come for that weekend and attend the party. I did, met Brian and his parents, and never looked back. It was almost instantaneous and we've been inseparable ever since.

The reasons I love Brian have changed over the years, as most reasons do. In the beginning, I loved that he was a Southern gentleman who treated his mother like a queen and loved his father enough to call him "Daddy" out in public. I loved that he opened car doors for me, called my mother ma'am, and followed me around as I partied with girlfriends I knew he didn't care for. I loved how much he loved me, and that sometimes his feelings made him cry (like the time his chocolate lab died). Mostly, I loved that Brian's family was first in his life (well, maybe second after me) because my family is first in my life. It's hard to find someone who understands that above all, your family is yours and you shouldn't take that for granted.

I still love all those things about him, but now, I love Brian for his strength. He was solid as a rock when his dad passed away after our wedding. He knew it was coming, he cried for days on end when it happened, and yet he still stood strong and was the man his mother needed in the months after. He works like a Trojan for his company, which treats him as if he were expendable, and rarely complains. He tirelessly supports me in my efforts to conquer all things Community College and in my neverending quest to earn a master's degree. He grocery shops (yes, even for um, feminine products). He knows when I've had enough and tells me to plop on the couch while he does the dishes. He loves children and knows that he wants us to have a little girl who looks like me one day.

In short, Brian isn't perfect. Our marriage isn't perfect, but it's ours. We work hard on it, we stumble often and we know that it takes effort and compromise from both of us to make it work. Above all, we know that we can depend on one another - which is great, because we both know we couldn't make it by ourselves.

So, for what it's worth, happy Valentine's Day, Brian. I love you more today than I thought I ever could. You sometimes make me mad, you most definitely make me crazy, and you are my dream come true.