Beloved has a softball game every Monday night. I think his company has the team, or maybe it's just a bunch of his coworkers. Anyway. I was there as usual, cheering him on, and cheering on his team when it just hits me:
I am head-over-heels, butt-crazy in love with this man.
I watched him out there in the field, the way he jiggles his legs when he's anxious. The way he moves his arm when he's waiting for the hit. The funny hunch he has when he just starts to walk. The way he runs, and when he stops he shifts his feet the same way every time. The same two flicks of his wrist that fix his shirt when it's hanging funny. The way he licks his top lip when his mouth feels dry.
And I knew each one before it came. I knew before he did any of them what to expect.
...like watching those well-known, well-loved parts of your favorite movie:
You know when to expect them, and then when you see them, even when you've seen them a thousand times, they still make you smile.
Gosh. Am I so pathetic or what?
The other night after being...together. I told him, "I love you now as much as I ever have done. Nothing you have done has diminished that." And he said, "I know. You're too good to me."
To which, at the time, I didn't respond. But now I am thinking, "YEAH. I am too good to you!" But, what can I do? It's the way I feel...
How did I become one of THOSE women? I never thought I'd do these things. I always swore I'd kill him. Or chop something off. Or at the very least take the kids, leave and never look back. But...just...none of the 'typical' or 'normal' reactions feel right.
Twelve Days of Boots: Day 9 by The Pioneer Woman
7 hours ago