The man has this hilarious yet amazing skill of naming things no one would ideally ever think to name. We have Barry the fridge, Nutty the groundnut bottle, John Bull the headphones, Junior and Pretty the biceps, not forgetting Victor and Hugo, a pair of white geese in my shagz that walk around the home like Russian mercenaries, attacking anyone who dares to come close to them. He never really plans to christen these things. Yet every single time, the names fit perfectly even with the randomness by which it happens. And it makes me laugh so hard. I like a man who makes me laugh. Let me rephrase. I love this man because he makes me laugh.

See, usually, I do these mushy posts on our anniversary, or on his birthday. Today is neither of the two, just a random “I-appreciate-my-man” Monday. Because I do. And because I am still squeezing out as much gunk as I can out of this inspiration pot that seems to come to me only when I randomly start to type in the dead of the night (in case you’re curious, it’s 3.13 am as I type this). Also because he is freaking amazing, so I’ve decided that I can write about him here anytime I want to. Spoiler alert! If you’re not in the mood for sappy, now would be a good time to click off. It gets about 150% sappy and 253% lovey-dovey real quick from here.


I’ll wait….


Still here? Cool. So it begins…

The man is no foodie, but he taught me a neat trick of salting raw potatoes before tossing them in hot oil when making fries, to avoid eating raw salt. He is an avid reader, he bought me a great book on our first date. Even when he is miles away, he stays up with me on the phone as I work late into the night. He sings to me because he knows that I like it. He has a smile that should probably be on a toothpaste billboard somewhere. This man prays with me and for me – EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. He will play phone soccer games with me, and get down and dirty on Just Dance with equal enthusiasm. Speaking of games, he doesn’t let me just win because I’m his girl, and I appreciate that. Everyone gets their ass kicked fair and square. Mostly it’s me doing the ass-kicking, but who’s checking, right babe?

man, relationship, love, dance, date,

He sends me funny videos and memes y’all. Memes! Anyone that’s about that meme life knows that you gats to have a special kind of humor to thrive in the meme world. Well, the man doesn’t just thrive, he owns that s!%&t. Think Deadpool but without the dying and rejuvenating neurons. I mean…

This jaherana still surprises me with English words that I have never heard of. Me that is the reigning champion and custodian of English in this relationship! I don’t take this prestigious crown lightly, so we always have to resort to a dictionary to prove that he’s using words that actually exist. I can report that every time, with every word, he’s been right so far. Except for that word “orientate”. Nonsense word. Oh wait, I just checked — it is actually a synonym of orient. Urgh.

Leaving this here as evidence that we’re both right

Aaaaanyway, the man stays true to couples code chapter 3, section 5B -– thou SHALL NOT watch an episode of a series the two of you follow together, without thy partner. He’s a protector and a provider. He puts in the work in our relationship, and he does a beautiful job at making me feel loved and appreciated. Above everything else, he is my friend. A true companion. A cheerleader, the core of my support system. He takes all my rants like a G, making sure to follow through with corresponding facial expressions and sighs as is required. We stan!

My people, I’d be lying if I said that it’s been all rosy and that we are always dancing on cupid’s fancy mix of rainbows and pixie dust. It’s not. We have our fair share of arguments, cold wars and bad days. But today is not about that. Today is a reminder to myself that I prayed for this. I asked God for this. And He delivered in the form of this gorgeous human of mine.

My heart is full.

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