How Do I Love Thee?

It's almost upon us. This week, VD strikes couples across the nation--Valentine's Day, that is. It's true that I love a holiday, although some memories of Valentine's past still linger and bring out the skeptic in me (long sleeve t-shirt for your Valentine, anyone? Yes, it happened to me). Flowers will die and chocolates will still be stuck to your thighs when spring finally springs up, so might I suggest some heartwarming prose for your beloved this year?

Remembering that my friend Ellen read "How Do I Love Thee?" at my wedding a dozen years ago, I thought I might take a trip down memory lane and rewrite my own version for this romantic occasion. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, you got nothing on me. Allow me to share my version which captures the domestic bliss of my relationship, and perhaps inspire you to write your own:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Our couch can reach, when we run Netflix marathons and hide from sight.

I love thee when you let me rant and rave
except when you say, "don't be so dramatic"--that one's not my fave.

I love thee doing dishes and fixing things around the house.
I love thee squishing bugs for me, or ridding us of that mouse.

I love thee as stubbornly as you can surely be
I love thee for the patience you have, a requirement for living with me.

I love thee freely, as long as you concede that I'm always right.
I love thee purely, even though you hog the covers almost every night.

I love thee as deeply as the ever falling snow
I love thee like a gold digger who has found a man with lots of dough.

I love thee with the frenzy of a Neiman Marcus clearance sale
I love thee through the moments when you act like a typical clueless male.

I love thee with a passion typically reserved for fried foods
In my old yoga pants, and in dress-up clothes.

I love thee with a love that, unlike my keys, I will never lose,
Even when you snore or show up late. I love thee with the morning breath,
the messes made, the secrets kept. And if God chose,
I shall but love thee better after death--
just don't test me or it might be an untimely one.
   
So there you have it. Sweets for the sweet, and oh-so-practical poetic charm for my Valentine. I'm not one for mushy stuff, but you might as well embrace the sentiment and tell someone you love them, anyway you chose. And remember, that pain in the butt might just be the sweet sting of Cupid's arrow. Happy Valentine's Day!

Just kidding, darling!