Thursday, September 13, 2012

I've Fallen In Love

I have a confession to make:  I have fallen in love. Sometime during this last week, I have fallen head over heels for a man. He has given me butterflies. He is strong and caring, funny, smart, and incredibly sexy. He’s my husband.

That may sound funny, since my husband and I have been married for more than six years, but I know what I’m feeling. I have a crush on my hubby.
I’m not sure that he did anything, and I’m not sure when it happened. I woke up one morning the happiest woman in the world. I could not believe that I am lucky enough to spend the rest of my life with my best friend. Yes, I’m swooning.

Military wives will tell you that they’ve felt the same thing, probably more than once. Usually it happens that second night after they’ve headed out to the field, or after that first phone call when they deploy--letting you know they’re at Cherry Point or in Canada. And sometimes it happens at 2200 when he’s on duty.

It happens when you’ve been separated long enough for all of his annoying quirks to escape your memory in favor of the way he smells fresh out of the shower. How he wrestles with the kids. He sends you flowers at work, so all the women know he loves you. He holds your hand while he’s driving. And he gives you that private smile (and wink) that lets you know that you’re his.

While my husband is definitely unique, I have to admit that he’s not one of a kind. Since he became a Marine, I’ve had the pleasure of learning that there are many men that share my husband’s better qualities. They still hold doors open for women and the elderly. They carry the heavy grocery bags and take out the trash. They change diapers and trade off middle-of-the-night feedings. They kill spiders and fix leaky faucets.

But Jesse is so much more than chivalrous. He would rather work two jobs, than have me work at all. He wants to build me my dream house--and he could do it, too, literally. As much as he cares for our kids, he puts me first (even before himself). I never worry about anyone hurting or taking advantage of me (you do not want to cross my Papi!). And, I’ll admit, he sometimes fights my battles for me.

Yes, I call him Papi. It’s probably silly for an Asian girl to call her white hubby that, but I do. It comes from two things: (1.) When I think of a guy called Papi, I think of someone smooth. (Which the hubby can be when he wants to. You should see him sweet talk a waitress!) Papi is a man that lets his woman know she’s desired. It might make me sound like property, but I like being Jesse’s “Woman.” No other man will ever get close to me. (2.) Jesse’s Bro-crush is Will Smith. Do you remember his song “Miami”? There was a woman that riffed, “Ay, Papi!” Sometimes I say that (in that voice/accent) just to mess with him.

I’m his Babe, and he’s my Papi. Right now he’s working the evening shift. He doesn’t get home until after the kids and I are in bed. It’s not the military, but I’m still going to bed alone. I’m not falling asleep snuggled into my favorite spot in the world, which makes me love it even more. Which makes me love him more. Which makes the butterflies take flight.

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