The L Word.

Alright my lovers…

Tonight was the night that Paul and I exchanged Christmas Cards. Now let me tell you this, I’m pretty big on words (no shit Sherlock) so when it comes to cards, the words inside will mean more to me than any gift given. If Paul was to hand me a card with a simple “love Paul”  I’d be fuming. Back in the early days, he wasn’t much for deep and meaningfuls, either on paper or vocally. For example, we were cuddled up the sofa, he told me he loved me and I replied that I loved him too and that I worshipped the ground he walked on..well blow me. You’d think I’d told him I was having an affair with the postman. He gave me a lecture on how nobody should worship the ground that anyone walks on because nobody is better than anyone else. Yes, he’s right but my initial thought was “fuck me, he’s never going to say anything remotely romantic or endearing is he, I’m dating an emotionally frigid ice cube”. 

Anyway, tonight he handed me his card and inside where the words “the last few months have been a struggle but we got through it together”, those words struck me a little. We have had a shitty few months. Paul has been stressed at work, I took a drastic and much needed change of career, Nev is a walking bag of hormones, we thought we were going to have to move house and, to top it off, I’ve been really poorly for the last month to the point where any game of hide the sausage is off the cards until I’m off work for Christmas on Thursday and get to the GP – trust me, nothing kills the moment more than having an asthma attack mid pump. (That’s not to say he’s not still trying to get his end away, but he’s a man and while his balls are loaded then who am I to judge?)

But, those words made me feel so happy, we have got through it, supporting each other through the bad times as well as relishing in the good. We’ve been tested the past couple of months but not once did we doubt we could get through it and not once did it put pressure on our relationship, we just dealt with it all as a team effort. 

This, is quite simply, what love is. Love, is a strong word. My best friend always tells me that there’s a fine line between love and hate because they require as much emotion. She’s right. (She usually is). When you’re in love with someone, you accept each other for who you are and embrace life together whether it be good or bad. You become one person with two different personalities. I often find that on days when I’m in a mood and sitting next to Paul on the sofa, I wouldn’t want to be on the sofa with anyone else, anywhere else. That is love. But what else is love?

Well here’s my definition. 

1) Love is…ordering way too much online and hiding it under the bed before he gets home, despite the fact all the money is in his account so he’s not easily bluffed.

2) Love is…sniffing his arm pit and loving the manly scent more than freshly cut grass or petrol.

3) Love is…choking on his fart at least once a day but still not leaving the room (and swearing blind your clothes now smell of his colon)

4) Love is…pinching the pickle from his Big Mac even when you know it’s his favourite part of his burger and by stealing it, your going to shit his day right up.

5) Love is…getting absolutely shit faced, promising him all kinds of bedroom activities yet passing out cold with your jeans around your ankles before he’s even turned off the light. (Most recently, after a work Xmas night out, I publicly  promised him “he could service my vagina! I hope he accepts I-O-U’s)

6) Love is… Taking a shit whilst he’s in the shower and then adding insult to injury by doing a double flush, leaving him waiting stark bolluck naked (it’s an amazing sight to behold) for the hot water to kick back in again.

7) Love is…Him sitting through ten episodes in a row of Hollyoaks catch up when you know he hates it all whilst dribbling at Freddie Roscoe (and Jack Osbourne, but that’s not to be discussed further) 

8) Love is… Promising to have a wardrobe (and floordrobe) declutter “on my next day off”. 154883 days off later and I still own bell bottom jeans from the early 00’s that I will NEVER wear again.

9) Love is… being an ugly sleeper (he’s says I sleep head back, open mouthed, spread eagled either snoring, farting or both) waking up with breath that could strip wallpaper and hair like Ken Dodd yet he still wants to try putting his P in my V.

10) Love is… Pretending to like my cooking for the first six months, even having seconds knowing he will have stomach ache and the shits for days afterwards.

11) Love is… Accepting that I will never put the bins out on in day because I’m just not built for that.

12) Love is… Letting me sing and dance in the car even though passers by get concerned I may be having a seizure AND I’m singing the words wrong.

13) Love is… Still drinking my tea even if I am a bag, milk and sugar before water kinda gal.

14) Love is… Letting me wear his socks and even his boxers when I can’t be arsed to go to the clean washing pile. I say “let”, this is the first he’ll have heard about the boxers.

15) Love is… Telling me I’m a dickhead at least 3 times a day.


Merry Christmas Mr Chisholm. You are right, we did get through it all. There’s no love like our love and I will be forever grateful for the day I stepped out of your car on our first date and you grabbed my arse before you whisked me off to dinner.

Forever…ever.

Em xox

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