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When I woke up this morning I planned to write a post about our winter escape.
I planned to write about the purity of snow.
I planned to write about ice-caves and skiing and the crunch that accompanies each snowy footstep.
But then I went to work.
And I had a manic (and not in the good way) day.
And I left the office feeling a whole lot of fragile.
And I drove home, scream-shouting to 90’s girl-band music.
But it didn’t soothe me as much as it did when I was going through teenage angst, so when I parked on my drive I sat there for a while wondering if I should really be around other humans when I was in such a toxic mood.

But then I got hungry so I had no choice but to get over myself and go inside.

And as I walked through my front door I noticed that our apartment was immaculate.
(Which was surprising because I’m pretty sure in the mad dash of arriving home and going to see everyone on the one day off I had before returning to work I had left skis, ski-boots and big fluffy socks dotted all over the house!) I noticed that the apartment wasn’t just surface tidied, but hoovered and bleached. I noticed that S had not only cleaned and tidied and organised all of our post-holiday chaos, but he had the ingredients for dinner ready to whip up a feast at half time (because yano – priorities).

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And as I stood on the landing looking into the kitchen at the empty worktops and the missing pile of post-holiday laundry, I got a little less stressed and a whole lot more emosh. Because whilst S always helps out around the house anyway, I didn’t expect him to sort out the post-holiday chaos we had caused by himself and I was so very, very grateful. I was standing there having a proper little moment all to myself when the words “Hello beautiful” echoed across the house and disturbed me. It was the sound of an invitation, and as I sunk under Sam’s arm and snuggled my head into the little nook and cranny that his shoulder bones make when his arm is raised, I realised that I felt so. much. lighter.

I mean how is it possible?
How can one person take away all of the stress and pressures that weigh you down with a smile and a bad joke when the 90’s girlbands you were previously scream-shouting at couldn’t even budge your mood a little bit?

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I never write much about S on here.
Sure he pops up every now on then when we go out roaming, or he does something silly and I blab about it on Twitter, or I drag him out to brunch. But I never really talk about us.

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I never really talk about the 5ft something-or-other brown-haired blue-eyed boy which I realised I rather quite liked 7 and a half years ago when I discovered that he didn’t run away from my random in-depth conversations or try to make awkward crappy small talk.

I never really talk about how 7 years ago when he asked me out I thought I was taking a risky gamble and that he would break my heart, because seriously who even asks people out by text.
(S if you’re reading this no you will not ever live that down).
I never really talk about how he eradicates that fear every damn day by being the most honest and chilled-out person. I never really talk about how secure he makes me feel, how much he makes me laugh or how much I appreciate him as a human, and not just because he doesn’t judge me because I can (*ahem*and do) eat more than him.

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I never really talk about how he celebrates me when I go to the gym and doesn’t judge me when I then “forget” to go for two days months. I never talk about how he ignores how annoying it is when I cocoon in the duvet and hog all of the bed. I never talk about how he’s so in tune with me that it doesn’t matter if I only ate 45 minutes prior, he’ll know if I’m hungry.

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I never really talk about how he does the washing up 70% of the time because he knows that when my fingers go pruney touching things makes me feel queasy. I never really talk about how he laughs at my stupid jokes. I never really talk about how funny he actually finds them. I never really talk about the stupid dance he does when he puts on a pair of skinny jeans just because he knows it will make me laugh. I never really talk about how fussy I am with my cup of tea (STRONG AND MILKY IS A THING AND I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY) or about how he has learnt how to make tea the way I like it (even though he only makes me like four cups a year).

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I never really talk about how I used to think that people with partners as best friends were odd or how S totally flipped my perspective on that. I never really talk about how much confidence he has helped me have in myself. I never talk about how unstoppable he makes me feel, I never talk about how much he grounds me and makes me realise that you can have ALL the ideas but short steps and a long vision is a better way to avoid burnout. I never talk about how truly, madly, deeply I fell in love with him three months into our relationship or how totally fucking scary it is to have such strong feelings for another.


So yeah.
I never really talk about S but my word do I have a lot to say.

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