As you may know, or remember, I am in love with a wonderful woman. The woman of my dreams, to be exact. So, I thought I’d tell you a little more about her, and how much she means to me. Since she’s a subscriber to my blog, I’ll be telling her, too. Before you ask, yes, I do tell her this stuff directly. I figure, every so often, a lady likes to learn how you feel indirectly, too.
My lady is intelligent. Yeah, I know: Every guy says this about his love (not true, but I get your gist). However, my lady has the college degree to prove it. Plus, she’s an author. Her début novel is still a few years away because she’s going traditional, and those feckers take forever to publish anything.
She has an awesome sense of humor. Again, I know: It’s almost a cliché. What I mean is that her humor is a lot like mine: She’ll laugh at something most folks like is horrible, like, “A baby seal walks into a club,” and yet, she’ll even giggle at the old Mark Twain classic, “Suppose you were a politician, or suppose you were an idiot. But I repeat myself.”
Yet, least you think I’m besotted, we don’t always see eye-to-eye. We recently had a disagreement, and she accused me of never giving her any credit. Like me, she has her flaws, but what makes her so wonderful to me is that in instances like this one, after we cool off, she’s willing to work things out. We end up stronger than before.
For me, Rishka is perfect. We complement each other so well, it’s like we’re literally two halves of the same whole. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Having her love makes things like this, and the part mentioned in the beginning of this post worth having gone through. Why? Because what I went through lead me to my Rishka. I’d not trade that for anything.
By the way, wondering what Rishka means? The answer is either here or over here. Sorry I don’t remember which.
Further reading:
beginingsinwriting 