I Really Love Love.

I am one of those people who uses the word “love” very freely. If you know me personally—or let’s face it, even just on Facebook—you might think I overuse the word.

“I love this song.”

“I love cookies.”

Regardless of what others think, specifically those who believe that the word should not be dropped at the slightest little thing and instead saved for truly important things and people, I’m fine with how I am. I know in my head the true hierarchy of people and things that are the recipients of my feelings. Obviously I love my kids way more than I love steak. (Which says a lot because I LOVE steak.)

For years and years and years, Jim has called me out on my declarations of love of things like the paint color we picked for our bathroom, my car, People magazine, and countless other things. Here’s how a typical conversation goes:

Me: “I love this movie.”
Jim: “I love YOU.”


Me: “I love this store!”
Jim: “I love YOU.”


Me: “I love traveling!”
Jim: “I love YOU.”

Obviously it’s very sweet but it drives me insane, and when I say “insane” I mean in that really good way that comes from being in a long-term relationship with someone you, ahem, LOVE. This is our marital equivalent of me pointing to your shirt and saying, “What’s this?” and then flicking your nose and saying “Boop!” when you look down.

Last night, the conversation changed.

We were enjoying dinner from a local chain that makes the best thin crust pizza in the entire universe. I LOVE THIS PIZZA.

And so does Jim. In fact, he said it.


And in a turnabout that has been years and years and years in the making, I was able to get him.

Me: “I love YOU.”

Then, I threw my hands in the air and screamed, “FINALLY!!! I FINALLY GOT YOU!! THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE AND I FINALLY GOT YOU!!”

I felt like I had just totally won the lottery, and then I looked over at his adorable, grinning face and remembered that I really had won, years and years and years ago.

Jim and Melisa