I love you. Me, too!

As I said here, I have a story behind these pictures.

When Handsome Hero and I were approaching our fourth anniversary, I got this amazing idea.  We would each write a list of the things we loved about each other.  We would present them on our anniversary and then frame them and hang them over our bed.  Brilliant and adorable and personal, right?  So romantic!  Handsome Hero thought the idea was fine.  Sure.  Okay. 

Then he forgot about it.

On our anniversary, I proudly presented my list of all the things I could think of that I loved about Handsome Hero.  It was long.  It was good.  He could bask in it.

When I was done reading each item to him, full of love and fluttering lashes, I waited patiently for him to present his list.  He looked at me sheepishly and said, "Um, I didn't finish mine {read: I never started it}.  I'll read it to you as soon as it's done."

I was, ahem, unhappy.  I waited for a few weeks, occasionally bringing it up in round-about ways.  I would say subtle things like, "So, have you gotten around to doing anything about that list?" or "Do you need to take some time so that you can finish any certain projects pertaining to our latest anniversary?"  Maybe subtle isn't an accurate description, but then, it never has been one of my attributes. 

After a month or two, it was becoming apparent that I wasn't going to get my list by asking for it.  So I got all manipulative and tried to guilt him into it.  Now that's true romance.  I bought two frames for over the bed and left them empty.  Again, not very subtle.  When he came home, there they were, clearly waiting for the lists.  And there I was, with lips pursed and arms crossed, waiting for him to get the hint, the picture of a wife you'd want to write a love list for.

It didn't work.  And that's when I got really mad.   I started snapping at him whenever I thought about it {which was whenever I looked at the empty frames}, but not actually saying what I was mad about, because, well, he should just KNOW, right?  I figured he needed another reminder, so I got out two crayons, and in one frame I wrote I love you in rather childish print.  In the other, Me, 2.  He would see these, and just wouldn't be able to stand them, and would finally give me my list.  I was sure of it.

But when he came home, he looked at the frames and said, "Cute!  Did you do that today?"  As if I had been a clever little girl, making my crayon art.  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

His reaction sparked something in me, though.  I had been pouting over this for months at this point, wanting him to show me love on my terms.  But why should I expect him to demonstrate his love on my terms?  I started to think of all the things he does to show love to me.  There are lots of things.  Pages of things.  I had them all on a list, remember?  I just hadn't bothered to read it again.

I kept those pictures over our bed as a reminder.  And when we moved into this house, I kind of missed them.  They represented an important lesson in our marriage.  So for Valentine's Day this year, I painted the frames, covered the cardboard with fabric for a backdrop, and used a friend's Cricut to cut out the letters.

He thought it was funny.  So do I.

And, no, I still haven't gotten my list.  But it doesn't matter, because the ways he loves me are more important than a list.

Now that's romance!