Love is…

Love is…

Love is perfectly rapping a completely inappropriate Eminem song from your teen years, totally in sync.

Love is letting your partner have the only towel left after you were too lazy to do a load or three of laundry.

Love is not asking where that receipt came from.

Love is sharing a smirk when a song with a private memory comes on.

Love is offering to change the baby’s nappy. The baby who is being reintroduced to lactose, and really probably shouldn’t be.

Love is going out into the thundering storm to save the pram from running away because you know your partner would sob if it was lost. It’s practically an extension of you at this point.

Love is cooking salmon for your partner even though you hate the smell and the taste, and you have no idea how to cook the little pink blob.

Love is having inside jokes that would sound absolutely ludicrous to everyone else.

Love is not pointing out how terribly mismatched the kids outfits are, because your partner is so proud of their styling efforts.

Love is accepting your partners family as your own, genuinely loving them and considering them just as important as the family you were born into.

Love is understanding that some days (most days) your partner makes zero sense. Their crying makes no sense. Their anger makes no sense. Their brain makes no sense. That’s ok, you’ll help them make sense of it.

Love is listening to ‘The Sound of Silence’ on repeat because it makes your partner smile. Even if it is making you want to shove something sharp and pointy into your brain just to get a break from hearing it.

Love is getting up in the middle of the night to hang the washing out because you know if your partner doesn’t have their ‘sucky-innny things’ clean and dry and ready to work hard holding in all those rolls they may just lay in bed in the foetal position and refuse to be seen by the general public.

Love is when your partner climbs into bed and snuggles into you and you do everything in your power to ignore your brain screaming ‘I just don’t want to be touched anymore today, I’m all touched out!’

Love is not pointing out that the number on the scales is going up, and instead making some smooth remark about it needing new batteries.

Love is telling your partner you’re totally into the sexy bald look and genuinely growing to love it, because you love them.

Love is letting your partner squeeze that huge zit on your back because you know they’re some sort of freak who finds pus fascinating.

Love is having late night showers in the dark together, no funny business, no talking, just enjoying the quiet and each other’s company.

Love is holding hands while you walk through the mall, reminding each other that you have a lifeline, an anchor. Even though your mind might be shaking with anxiety over how you’re possibly going to afford the new school shoes that are needed, you know you’re not in it alone.

Love is not always romantic walks on the beach, or long, latenight phone calls from under the doona where your parents won’t hear you.

Love is not always flowers, and chocolates, and jewellery.

Love is not always a handwritten note, sometimes it’s typed.

I love you.

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