Last night, one of my closest girlfriends got married to an incredible man - I've been drafting a blog post about it but choosing the right photos out of 250 shots of gorgeousness is proving difficult, so you'll just have to wait a little longer to get a sneak peek of her beautiful wedding that was filled with love. What was a nice aside was that S and I finally got to take some photos all dressed up - because of the back injury we haven't really been out, much less gotten frocked up for an event. I asked the lovely Noel to step outside and snap a few quick shots of us... it was too good an opportunity to pass up!
I love this man, I really do. Yesterday, in particular, there were many reasons to love him. To start with, I was in pain and rushing to get ready for the wedding in 20 minutes flat, and hadn't eaten for 14 hours. That is a lethal combination. And all he did as I ran around, squawking at him, shrilly snapping out demands and grumbles, was benignly ignore me, and help me get myself together to leave the house.
All the way to the wedding, in the car, I muttered and huffed about how I didn't feel pretty, how I was so hungry I could bite his arm, and discovered I'd brought the wrong envelope for the wedding card (oh, the shrieks of despair). Don't judge me - when I don't eat, I am a lunatic. You probably are too, so there.
Calmly, he kept reassuring me about how stunning I was, pulled into a service station so I could pick up a chocolate bar and a new wedding card envelope, and kept holding my hand tight, reminding me about how exciting it was that Liz was getting married.
Finally, he became, as usual, my hero. I am still angry with my back for not managing to hold up all night, but after all the speeches, the pain set in pretty crazily. I disappeared to the bathroom, where Gemma later found me, teary and distraught. S got the maitre'd to organise a back laneway exit for us (so we wouldn't disrupt the happy merry-making), helped me hobble to the car, sat with me whilst I lay down and collected myself.
When it was obvious that I wasn't going to recover (but I was too confused and discombobulated from the pain to be lucid), he made the executive decision that we had to leave, escorted me back, explained to everyone that we were going, collected my various girly accompaniments (purse, shawl, camera), and swept me home swiftly to a hot water bottle, cuppa tea, and a warm blanket on the couch.
What a man.
I know that all the above seems so.. normal. Why WOULDN'T you expect your partner to be so utterly thoughtful, loving, patient and wonderful? Why would you be with them otherwise? Yet, I know that I have been in relationships where all the above would not have been sure things, and I know of relationships that don't have the same support and adoration.
Most certain of all, I know of no man who completes me more on so many levels, in addition to doing all those things above, and makes me feel so loved, adored, so special, so relaxed, and like life is complete.