I was chatting to a writer buddy this morning about love and romance. Not love of the hearts-and-flowers and grand gestures type, but--what I consider to be--'real love.' You know, those small every day acts that tell us we're loved by our significant other.
For instance, once when I was at a party, I imbibed several too many shots of the old giggle juice. Now, my hubby isn't a drinker. While I was quaffing (love that word, btw! Quaff, quaff, quaff!) glass after glass, he gave me 'the look', but he didn't say anything.
[If you have a delicate disposition, look away now!]
When we got home, the giggle juice swilling about inside my stomach turned sour. I couldn't stand unassisted, and then the 'whirling pits' started. I was in a REAL pickle. I swear, I almost puked myself inside out.:(
D'you know what my lovely hubby did? He held back my hair while I was hugging the toilet bowl and he stroked my back. That's it. He never said A WORD. Not one solitary snarky remark passed his lips. Then, afterwards, when I cold and trembling and smelling of puke, he put me in bed and snuggled up beside me, keeping me warm with his hot cuddly body.
A grim tale, I know, but it perfectly demonstrates what I'm talking about today.
So, now it's your turn. How do you know you're really loved?