Every morning, I wake up to my girlfriend turning over and nuzzling her head into the space between my shoulder and my chin. Her arm snakes across my chest and her legs cross with mine as she draws herself near. Sometimes I enjoy the privilege of her feet shocking me like only a step into an ice-cold kiddie pool would. She whispers a soft “good morning, boo” into my ear and I realize once again why I fell in love with her.
After we’ve had some time to wake up and whisper soft things, holding each other in the gentle morning light, we go about our routines. We shower (sometimes apart, sometimes together), brush our teeth; I shave and put a little pomade in my hair, she gets pretty. This takes less effort for her than I believe it would most people, because she often wakes up that way already. There is almost nothing I love more than her tousled, light, and effortlessly sexy morning hair. I stay behind to get dressed while she goes around the corner and starts breakfast, often in just panties and one of my button ups. It’s a stereotype, but what man doesn’t dream of a girl who will wear one of his shirts the morning after because of all the warm little feelings it makes her feel?
Her signature breakfast dish is called a farmer’s breakfast, and it’s something she takes pride in. Eggs, a baked potato, onions and peppers, and sausage crumbles comprise this creation. Easy to make, and I think it’s delicious. Her face lights up when I tell her that it tastes perfect and that I love it. I love a lot of things that she does. I give her a kiss when we’re done and thank her for making it, and she tells me that she just likes to make me happy.
She’s a strong girl, the independent type, who grew up getting what she wanted, especially from boys. I wouldn’t say that I have tamed a lion, but calling her anything less than that would be an understatement. She’s tall, motivated, hard working, beautiful, and as smart as they come. And she’s all mine. I didn’t trap her, or coerce her, or give her promises of great riches and fame. I just did things for her because I liked her, and that like turned into love, and now we do things for each other because of that love. Hopefully that love will some day turn into an “I do”.
I hold what you could call traditional views of gender roles, where the man does the things a man is supposed to do and a woman does the things a woman is supposed to do. I probably will catch a lot of flak for saying this but I believe that the divorce rate was far lower 50 years ago for a good reason. My girlfriend is completely ok with this because, you know what, she likes cooking for me. She likes dressing up for me and swoons when I tell her how pretty she looks. She likes doing what I ask her to because, dammit, this relationship is a commitment and it’s something we want to work so we’re going to make it work.
I never hit her or abuse her but I have no problem telling her when I’m not happy about something. Lies only hold you apart. Especially petty lies, the little white lies we hold on to and let build up until they spill out all together in a great cacophony of anger and chagrin and dissatisfaction and it’s all so stupid because the little shit doesn’t matter, it’s the little shit that you need to get out of the way to make room for the big shit that really does matter because otherwise you’re going to be too hung up on the little shit to care about the big shit because you simply won’t have the time to. I’m honest with her and she’s honest with me and if she doesn’t like something I do then she better damn well let me know because I care about her too much to let the little things build up. She knows this and that’s why she’s ok with my view on gender roles. Call me old fashioned but if it means that I care about her in more ways than I thought I could care about a person then by all means I am old fashioned.
She tells me all the time that she loves me. She also tells me that she wishes she didn’t say it so much because it makes her feel vulnerable to me. I tell her that it’s okay; it’s okay to be vulnerable to somebody, to put your trust in them. She knows that I will never hurt her because that isn’t what a man does to his loved one. It’s ok for her to open up to me, because it lets me be her rock. I am something steady for her to hold on to while she weathers out her storms of emotion. That’s how a man should be to his woman. That’s why she loves me so damn much it hurts sometimes. That’s why I love her. That’s why I look forward to every morning I wake up next to her and feel her warm breath whispering sweet things into my ear. And I will always whisper them back.