People lie about their relationships. They say things like ‘I wouldn’t change a thing’. or “We have never had a single fight.”

That last one? It’s not a lie. Go ahead, roll your eyes. Cast your judgement.

 I have  fought plenty of times. I have ranted and raved at him and carried on like an adult sized two year old on more occasion than I can (or care to) count. But he has never fought back. Nobody can ever tell of the time they heard us yelling at each other in the kitchen (and not because I hid the bodies) because it’s never bloody happened. All the screaming?

Me.

He maintains a dignified silence, finds somewhere else in the house to be and then after a little while will come and hold me while I cry like an agitated moron. (It’s very frustrating trying to fight with someone who won’t fight with you. It leaves me all overwhelmed and cranky and hoarse from yelling at essentially…myself.)

My Mum once told me she worried for Matt’s safety after we announced our engagement. Not because of how she or my father felt about him but because they were worried I would eat him alive. Mum always said I should find a man who was strong willed, openly opinionated and bossy to keep me in my place because I’m known for being a little…. assertive. About three years ago she told me she was very happy that she hadn’t been responsible for choosing my spouse. I am too, because if I had married the type of man she would have picked then the relationship would have been shorter than the Kim Kardashian nuptials (edition #2).

Don’t be misled – Matt is strong willed and opinionated. There is nothing weak about him, he has solely been responsible for my enjoying, relishing and sometimes just surviving the past (almost) eight-and-a-half years that we’ve been in this game of life together. He just has the uncanny ability to be all  sensitive and amazing and manly while completely ignoring my most ridiculous rantings and idiosyncrasies. I often tell him  how lucky he is to have such a graceful, intelligent and elegant wife (this usually comes after I’ve broken something, tripped over something, lost something or completely effed something up) and he will deadpan back at me every single time “I know.”

The thing is, (and this still boggles my mind) he means it.

Every time he tells me he loves me, he means it. He tells me a lot. He tells me everyday that I am beautiful. He tells me every day that he’s proud of me, he holds me close every day and makes me weak at the knees and the truth is that for all of the times that he wants to suffocate me for being so damned stubborn, and for all of the times that I want to scream at him to just once for the love of God yell back at me so I can have this fight I’ve been wanting to have for weeks now… 

In a not co-dependant but maybe a little codependent (because after seven years of marriage and eight and a half of a relationship isn’t that just what happens) sort of way

I simply can’t live without him.

Happy 7th Anniversary to the man who dragged me kicking and squealing into this amazing life that I will never take for granted. Put simply, I adore you.