Brad, I’ve already made the big promises to you, so here are a few things I definitely can’t promise but I’ll try. I’ll try to stop asking you who is ‘winning’ the cricket. Because that’s not how it works. I’ll try to not get mad at you for mumbling, and to bite the bullet and spend the money on the hearing aids we both know I need. I will try every day to love myself as much as you love me, because if you can’t love yourself… how in the hell are you going to love somebody else?
I’m someone who is severely affected by decision paralysis. I will be so terrified of making the wrong choice that I will struggle to move forward with anything. Brad, you were, and continue to be, the easiest choice I’ve ever made.
A couple of months before I met you my therapist told me to write a list of everything I was looking for in my perfect man. It was not a short list. You don’t have any tattoos… but I’m working on that. You’re not handy, but thankfully your dad is, and you’re not musical, but we can always get Joe to serenade us. Of the 31 qualities on my list, you were 28. That’s a pretty bloody near perfect score if you ask me.
As time goes on I find more and more qualities that I love about you. Like the way you put on The Sopranos when you’re in the mood to cook Italian food. Or the way you get angry when some guy treats one of my friends badly ‘because how can they not see what a catch she is?’. Or the way you can now acknowledge Taylor Swift’s undeniable musical talent.
Thank you for everything you have shared with me. New music, old movies, your food, and your life. You are the Pam to my Jim, the Donna to my Josh, the Ben to my Leslie. I love you man. All there is… and then some.