Dog Poo and Roses

He had me at “because you don’t like tomatoes.” It was the first time he cooked dinner for me. We had been dating for a few weeks and he had made a point of preparing a salad with no tomatoes just to please me. It was so sweet. He was so earnest in his explanation of the entirely tomato free menu. He desperately wanted to impress me and it worked. At the time, I’m sure that he was just trying to get into my pants but instead (that’s right “instead” I’m not that easy) he got into my heart.

That was two and a half years ago. Now we live together. The dating phase is over. Our days are spent folding laundry, running errands, fighting over the remote. For his birthday, I got him a tool for turning compost. On my big day, I received a collection of novelty socks. He makes fun of my romance novels and I make him clean up all of the dog poo.

That’s life, but I don’t mind because he never forgets that I don’t like tomatoes. It’s the little things that matter.

For me, he is perfect.

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