I Hate Being In Love

Being in love sucks. I hate old classic movies that made me think it was all unicorns and rainbows. That's not real love at all. Real love is cold, evil, and just plain mean. I hate it.

I hate waking up thinking of him and then getting yelled at when I call just because I miss him and I want to hear his voice.

I hate being placed on a pedestal. He expects so much from me. Then when I make a mistake, as humans will do, I get treated like I'm the worst person in the world.

I hate that I make ONE mistake in a year and it completely undoes all of what we've worked so hard on.

I hate getting ignored on Facebook. Apparently its not cool to recognize the fact that your girlfriend exists on Facebook. But talking to all the guys is perfectly fine.

I hate when he calls at 7:45 in the morning on his way to work and expects me to talk to him, but I can't do the same.

I hate that he only comes on Fridays. And yells at me when I ask if we can see each other on other days.

I hate when he's mad at me. It just makes me want to crawl into his arms even more. But he's mad, so of course he pushes me away.

I hate when he's not here....

I hate when he leaves....

I hate when he's busy and can't respond to my texts.

I hate when I dream that he's here and wake up to emptiness and loneliness.

I hate......being in love?

Ah who I am kidding. I love being in love. I know I'd miss the 7:45 am phone calls if I suddenly stopped getting them. I love how it drives me crazy when he doesn't recognize me on Facebook. I love when he looks at me and just smiles. I love when he falls asleep on me. I love how mad he can make me. I love how mad I can make him. I love how when I'm mad and yelling, he kisses me and won't let me yell. And does it so long that I eventually just start laughing and forget why I was angry in the first place. I love how he worries when I fall off of a horse. And holds me down to scrub out the wound. And I love the pained look he gets on his face when I'm yelling and writhing. Like it's hurting his soul to be causing me pain. Even though the pain is necessary to get better.

I love when he offers to drive an hour and a half to rescue me just because I ran out of gas at ACC. I love when he says I'm his best friend. I love that I'm in love with my best friend. I love that he watches What Not To Wear and Say Yes to the Dress with me. And will take me to see Sex and the City 2. I love when he makes me text him three times when I get off work at midnight. Once when I'm leaving the building, once when I'm in my car after walking across the dark, scary parking lot, and once when I get home safe and sound. I love that he worries.

Because I probably worry double. He hurt his Achilles tendon at the paintball game yesterday. I think I told him how to take care of it about 10 times.

I love him. Even when I'm angry or sorry or hurt or whatever. I just love my guy.

And I love that he loves my puppy. My two boys have to get along, and boy do they.