Dear Husband, I Loved You First.
But often, you get the last of me.
I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now, at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a pony tail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere.
But there were days when we would lay in bed and binge watch Netflix. They were my favorite. The thought of being with you for the whole weekend, got me through the week. We’d run down the street to our favorite Mexican place, eat until we were stuffed, grab some ice cream, and watch Chuck until we fell asleep. We’d laugh until we cried. And we wouldn’t wake up the next morning until we felt like it.
Remember all those Saturday’s we’d hop in the car and drive? Anywhere. Or we’d call up a few friends and ask them to meet us downtown in like thirty minutes? We didn’t have to be home at a certain time. If we stayed out late, it was fine because we could take a nap the next day. We went on lots of adventures, didn’t we?
And you got all of me. The very best parts.