(it’s more fun to be romantic when the other person isn’t expecting it, don’t you think? without cheap plushies involved?)
my man is temperamental and stubborn and set in his ways. he takes great pleasure in being contrary and he’s the most pessimistic person i have ever known; when the mood takes him he doesn’t so much paint things black as he just plain drowns them in india ink.
he’s also incredibly indulgent when it comes to my whims and quirks. he’s hysterically funny when he wants to be (and sometimes just by accident). he’s thoughtful (always making sure to point out things he thinks i might enjoy (he’s almost always spot on)).
he pokes me and badgers me and wants the best for me, and does the best he can to help me get there.
he’s got more hair now, and a fairly impressive beard, and a menagerie of strange and marvellous animals all over his arms, and after eleven years he still draws me like this:
(i love you, grumpy.)