I don’t gush about the HTB to people in real life so it is here that i spill my guts in a rush of soppy sentimentality.
The truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever been so content as I am now and it sort of bothers me because he is such a huge part of why. It goes against all my inclinations to have my happiness tied up in somebody else. I thought I was happy on my own and I still think I was; I certainly wasn’t aware of missing out in any way.
In all of my previous relationships I have always been the nurturer and just assumed that was how relationship dynamics play out – one person does more than the other. Not in this case. He looks after me. Or, it would be fairer to say, we look after each other.
He does chores around the house without being asked (mostly – I did mutter at him the other day that it would be nice if something with a penis cleaned the bathroom for a change), always offers to pick up stuff for dinner, comforts me when I feel sick, listens to me vent, asks me questions, includes my daughters and my family if they are around and is always so wonderfully physically affectionate.
He asked me the other day if I had always been so touch focused and I first of all I said no, because I didn’t think I was. But on further thought, it was always a need I had, just one which was never fulfilled. I honestly think it stems back from being a baby in hospital for nearly a year, only allowed to have my mother visit once a week. I’ve been emotionally deprived at a time when it was crucial for development. He gives me what I didn’t know was missing.
I hope I give that back to him as well.