I am impatient. I have been my whole life. I don't want to seem like I'm skirting responsibility, but I learned from the best. My mother is the most impatient person that I know. I can't tell you how often she snaps my father's name, as if he were the cause of all of her problems. The poor man. He is so quiet and can never catch a break, not in 40 years of marriage.
Anyway, back to me...I'm impatient. I used to have a roaring temper, but now I am merely occasionally short-tempered. I tend to get lost in my moods and forget that everyone else isn't ruled by the ill wind. I can be petty and argumentative and childish. I can be frustratingly blunt. I can really put my foot in it. I can be short-sighted and give up too easily. I can be needlessly rebellious. I can be rigid, and at times I can be careless with the rules. I can be over-sensitive and I cry too easily. I am excitable and easily distracted. I am difficult to live with. I am too hard on myself.
I am all of these things. These are my faults and I keep a daily running tally of them. I see them all the time. But Him? He thinks I'm perfect. He thinks everything I do is perfectly adorable, from the way that I excitably greet him on the phone ("HI! Hi Daddy! Hi!"), to the fact that I still drink milk every night with dinner, to the way that I hum while I brush my teeth, to the holes in my socks. Even through all of my failures and my faults, of which there are many and which crush me daily like a lead weight, he loves me completely and thinks the world of me.
There are times when I am sure that he is going to give up on me, or at least start to be a little less than 100% charmed by everything I do, but that never happens. Not even now, after 16 months together, has his ardor faded. How is that possible? I've had longer relationships, but never one where the lovey-dovey phase lasted this long or where we didn't start getting on each others' nerves to some extent. I wonder if we will always be this way.
I hope we will always be this way.