• To the man who doesn’t exist

    by  • February 19, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Love - Pure and Simple • 0 Comments

    You’re perfect. Your southern accent is incredibly hot. We go fishing but you don’t hunt deer. You drive a nice pick up truck and can pull off a bow tie. I wake up to sweet good morning texts from you. We don’t have to talk everyday for us to know we’re in love. You send me flowers randomly. You give me random compliments and it doesn’t hurt that you have money. You love me for being me and I love you through thick and thin. I have no doubts about our relationship. Our chemistry and love is proof God designed us for each other. You understand my PMDD and don’t take it personally when I explode. You don’t pressure me into stepping out of my comfort zone to hastily because of my anxiety disorder. You don’t mind staying in and watching movies with me while I cook dinner with no make up on and in your tshirt. You understand how not to cross the line when cuddling and don’t pressure me into having sex, nor to drink. You don’t mind sharing the bed with my dog, aka “daughter” and love her dearly. You’re not quick to judge people and is selfless. You don’t mind that the future scares the crap out of me and understand that what ever town we end up in, we have to make the decision together.

    And most importantly, you make me the best I can be be. You encourage my pr and ad degree but understand why I still want to go to culinary school. You inspire me to give back to the community. You make me want to be a better person in general. You go with me hand in hand in my path to find Christ. You are the strength and rock in our marriage and make me think that maybe I could handle a family.

    Your women who doesn’t exist,
    Madison B.

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