I’ll kiss you in front of your parents while you’re pregnant with our first child. I’ll remind them of the day I met them and how terrified they were of the idea of me and how far we’ve all come from then.
I won’t tattoo your name on my skin, but I’ll ink the date we first meet over one of my ribs. The one you replaced that day.
I’ll paint you a picture. Not a picture of you, or of us. I’ll paint you a picture of your future. The one with me in it.
I couldn’t possibly sell you a dream. But I’ll embody the faceless person you’ve dreamed would sweep you off your feet so many times. Tell me your dreams.
I’ll write you a song. I’ll write a song only you would ever hear. I’ll write you a song of you. I’ll write you into a song.
When you cry, I won’t make you smile. That’s not my job. I won’t cry with you either. I’m no sissy. When you cry, I’ll understand. If I don’t understand, I’ll help you understand why I can’t. Then I’ll kiss away your tears.
You’re going to get mad at me. A lot. I’ll apologise every time I’m wrong. And sometimes when I’m not. And once in a while when you are. I’ll still let you know you’re wrong though. Just not then. Because world peace is important.
I’ll cook. With you. For you. For our kids. I’ll do dishes. I’ll dice vegetables. I’ll clean up. I’ll turn the amala while you make the soup and grind the beans after you’ve scrubbed off the skin.
I’ll take you on dinner dates. Wine and dine you. Then I’ll silently laugh at you from the other side of the door while your tummy runs because you ordered that lobster we both knew would run your tummy.
You’ll take me on dinner dates. And I’ll let you. Because you want to. And because I like it when you do. Because you like balance. And so do I. And because every now and then, only rarely, I’ll be broke.
I’ll call you sexy. Because you are. Even when you think I’m lying (I won’t be), I still will. Even when I’m mad with you, I’ll call you sexy. I won’t call you sexy when you’re mad with me though. World peace is still important.
You’ll look at me from across the crowded room and I’ll get the message. I’m not telepathic but I get you. Even when I wish I don’t.
I’ll swallow my pride. I’m (a)n adult male hu(man), and that means I’ve got an ego. It’s not big or strong or hard, but I’ve got it. For you though, I’ll put it aside… as much as possible.
I won’t look through your phone.
I’ll let you look through mine, if you care that much. It’s no big deal.
I’ll never lie to you.
I won’t tell you you look fat when you ask if you do. Even if you believe you do and you believe I think you do. That won’t be me lying to you (see above). That’ll be me dodging an obvious trap. Because I’m wise (not a liar).
I’ll break the head of any man who insults you. Except when I can’t or when you started it or when it’s avoidable… Which is every time. Okay, I won’t be breaking anyone’s head on your behalf so don’t pick any fights. That’s not how to love you.
I’ll do everything within my power to make sure you come too. Every time. At the very least, it’ll always be worth your while.
We’ll argue and bicker and fight sometimes. And when we do, it’ll be your fault. But I’ll never tell you it is. That won’t be me lying, it’ll be me not telling you the truth (at that moment). World peace, remember?
Let me be honest, I won’t be honest with you aaaaaaaaallllll the time. I’ll be entirely honest most of the time and every now and again, I’ll be partially honest. Never dishonest. When will I not be entirely honest? When you don’t want me to. Remember, I get you.
There’s 22 ways to loving you
And I will show them all to you
Watched Bemyoda perform Forever last night and as he sang those lyrics, the idea for this piece hit me smack dab in the face.
ps I created the cover illustration 😁😁