(part of the What is Love series)
Love means taking a long, contemplative, extremely thoughtful pause and really considering the question, rather than just frivolously answering “Never!” when he asks “So when do you think you’ll get tired of me?”
I’m still thinking.
(Continuation of Romance )
“Oh thank CHRIST.”
— Me, upon discovering that the hotel we are staying at this week in the Bahamas has a Starbucks in the lobby.
Please note that he is SUPER proud of this. 
(Part of the What is Love series)
Love is knowing when to say “I’m sorry.”
Roughy 10-15 minutes after he says it first.
(Part of the What is Love series)
Love means being able to cup his face in your hands, look him straight in the eye and tenderly ask him to check if that painful lump you feel on your back is a pimple or a spider bite.
Eric’s Super (just now, as I let myself into Eric’s building with my copied key): “You are make the relation with Eric, yes?”
Me: “Yes.”
Super: <Grins widely. Let’s me enter.>
I don’t know what I just said yes to.
Love is when you can comfortably express to him, in precise and vivid detail, exactly what this stomach bug is doing to your digestive tract.
When I pulled up a map and showed Eric the various locations he can cheer for me during the Philly marathon on Sunday, he jokingly sighed and said, “You know, this day is turning out to be much harder for me than it will be for you.”
Then he got up off the couch and went out to pick up some ice.
To put on his face.
Because I kicked him in it.
When I won tickets to last night’s Adele concert at Radio City Music Hall via a congratulatory email, I was certain it had to be fake. I never win ANYTHING. The email said I had 8 hours to respond with a copy of my ID and a signed affidavit. I simply didn’t trust it.
“How do I know this is real? What if it’s ISIS?!” I asked Eric in a panic.
“You’re insane.” He replied. “The email is from Columbia Records. You entered through Adele’s website. It’s real.”
“But…but…how do you know for sure?!”
The email provided a number to call should I have any questions about the contest, so Eric suggested I call it. “But what would I even say to find out if it’s real?!” I said.
Exasperated, he took matters into his own hands and dialed the number himself. It rang once and someone picked up.
Person: “Columbia Records.”
Eric: “Hi, is this real?”
Person: “Yes.”
Eric: “Ok bye.”
Eric (to me): “It’s real.”
(It was real, though).
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