my love

I have the rare opportunity to be married to the world's most perfect man... for me. Now don't get me wrong. I'm well aware of his imperfections. I did not marry the man who always says the right thing. In fact, he puts his foot into his mouth regularly. I did not marry a man who brings me flowers every night. He doesn't enjoy playing board games. He doesn't even like musical theater (gasp!).

Erick is what I would call a typical (almost stereotypical) American guy. He played football in high school and college. He spends a substantial amount of time watching sports. When he's not watching sports, he's reading about them. He likes war movies. He passes gas and thinks it's funny. He likes shooting guns and fly-fishing. He's 'too tough' to cry. He likes red meat... you get the idea.

But somehow despite the many differences between us, we live together in a state of blissful realism. That's my term for it. We know each other. We know we are FAR from being perfect (oh, so far). And yet, we love each other. Imperfections and all. (I won't even start listing my pages and pages of imperfections...)

There are so many reasons why I love Erick... He makes me laugh. He makes me feel loved and appreciated and desirable. He talks with me. He is quick to forgive. He supports me in my hobbies and interests even when he doesn't share those interests. Erick encourages me to go out and learn and grow. He lets me be... me.