Kind

You’ve had my heart for so long

And yet I pretend like I’m unaffected.

Every time I breathe, I feel your love in my lungs

But I still call you “dude”

Rather than “baby”

Because “dude” comes with a way out,

And the only thing I’m truly good at anymore

Is finding a means of escape.

I used to think kids were impractical,

Just steamy piles of chaos personified.

I’d call them “womb fruit” and “crotch goblins”

And maybe sometimes “bedroom participation trophies,”

And everyone around me knew that those creatures were not for me.

Because that’s what I told them.

“Kids are gross and expensive”

Was easier to say than being vulnerable,

And yet it was easy for me to tell you

“I don't want kids because I’m scared that I won’t be enough for them.”

And somehow it was even easier for you to say:

“That’s why you’d have a partner to help.”

What I didn’t say,

And what I’m guessing you didn’t read between my poorly strung-out words was:

“I’m afraid to be alone,

And I don’t think anyone would stay.”

Marriage seemed like something I’d do only out of convenience.

A “married by thirty to a random friend

Because events are less lonely

And taxes are less expensive” kind of union,

Because loves leave

But friends tend to stay a bit longer.

And in all this time,

No one told me that marrying a friend

Could still be an act of love,

Rather than convenience.

It never occurred to me that such a kind friend

Would become my favorite lover.

I haven’t described someone as “kind,”

At least, not the way I describe you with it.

My childhood best friend taught me

To treat “kind” like it holds magnitude.

I’ve been known to say “I love you” with reckless abandonment,

But hold back “kind” until absolutely necessary.

I saved the word until I found someone who embodied it,

In the same way that when asked to rate something on a scale of 1-10,

The highest I’ll go is a 9.75

Because 10 needs to be saved for the best.

When I look at you,

You

Are my 10.

And when asked how I’d describe you,

One of the first things out of my mouth every time is:

“He’s so kind.”

And I paint walls and sentences with it

Like it is the only word I know

Because to me, you are the person most deserving of that title

And eloquent words don’t hold the same weight

As “kind.”

I didn’t think I deserved it.

“Nice” people leave

And assholes stay,

And despite how difficult they make life,

Assholes still hold more warmth than empty sheets

And I’d rather share a table with an enemy

Than eat dinner alone.

Which is probably the cause of most of my messed up past relationships.

And I acknowledge that it was unhealthy.

But at least toxic was never boring

So, I'm working on it.

And I’m working through it.

For the time being, he’s beside me.

My lover,

My friend,

My partner,

A kind, gentle man.

The kind of man that women write books about,

And men laugh at women for reading.

And suddenly, kids don't seem as gross.

Marriage doesn’t feel like a business transaction,

But like a partnership.

An opportunity to wake up next to you every day.

Rinse and repeat.

New adventures and old love,

And enough stories to tell our children’s children,

With enough omissions to keep it clean.

More love than seen before in a single place

And humility,

Because we know we’re imperfect

But together we hold strong.

Tomorrow,

If you asked me to run away with you,

I’d laugh and call you goofy

Because tomorrow holds too much opportunity

And I refuse to enable you to give up.

But when the time is right,

If you hold me tight,

And tell me that you love me from down on one knee,

I would say yes.

Even if you proposed with a fragile piece of thread.

I’d wear a ribbon like a wedding band

And let your kindness fill in the gaps.

Besides,

The best gifts come wrapped in ribbon,

And your love is the best gift I’ve ever received.