How do you know you’re in love? As my relationship with Mark continues to progress, this is a question I’ve asked myself a few times. I’ve been thinking about it lately. Not in a doubting I-don’t-think-I’m-really-in-love way, but more of a contemplative how-did-I-get-this-lucky sort of way.
I know that I’m in love with Mark because I feel happiest when we’re together. When we talk, I feel like I’m talking to the person who knows my heart the best. My best friend, you might say ; ). He makes me laugh so hard, and often at inappropriate times (institute and sacrament meetings seem to be popular choices). We teach each other things all the time. Things about the world, food, dancing, music, nerd-dom, games, science, languages, art, God, and one another. He is unwaveringly kind. This is what attracted me to him in the first place. His gentleness never ceases to comfort me. When he holds me, I never want him to let go. Mark doesn’t back down when things get hard. I love our adventures, and how excited he gets about things. Like the plants (he has roughly 1 billion plants on his apartment balcony, porch-thing). It’s pretty adorable. I love his openness, and his acceptance of me. I can say anything to him without judgement. This is a big deal to me, and something I’m still learning how to do. He works so hard and cares so deeply for the people in his life. When we have faced hard things, we’ve done so holding onto each other. That, my friends, is love.