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Description
I am a sports addict. I am a couch potato. I hog the remote and fart at inappropriate times. I am inconsiderate and I don’t do the dishes.

I am her man.

I don’t make the bed. I don’t fold the washing. I leave the toilet seat up and don’t wash my hands. I don’t pay attention and I can’t be bothered vacuuming.

I love her.

I chop down the trees. I bring the wood up. I mow the lawns and trim the hedges. I go out for beer and pool on Fridays.

She’s my girl.

I forget our anniversary. I remember the footy match 2 months from now. I scratch my balls and sniff my nose. I take up the whole bed and steal the covers.

She loves me.

She watches chick flicks. She plays with her food. She hogs the bathroom and sighs too much. She says she’s fine, even when she’s not and complains about the mess.

We fight a lot.

She paints her nails. She paints her face. She won’t wear track pants and she doesn’t chill. She remembers every little thing I ever said, and uses it against me.

The makeup sex is great.

She doesn’t have that much wrong really. I come home every night and the bed is made, the washing folded, the dishes done – and the toilet seat down. She makes me dinner and steals the remote once a month.

It’s awesome when she doesn’t play the game.

It’s awesome when she wears her grey track pants and too big jumper. It’s awesome when we play video games and it’s awesome when she relaxes.

The sex is better when she isn’t stressed.

I decided it was time to show her me. I didn’t take her to a fancy restaurant, and I didn’t buy her an expensive ring. I went to the market and carried the food home. I turned the stove on, just to prove I know how to use it. I did the vacuuming, and I put the lid down. I folded the washing and did my dishes.

I hid the remote.

I set the table and lit the candles. I remembered the bed, and actually made it. I let all the farts rip, and scratched by balls enough for the night. I blew my nose and washed my hands.

It was Friday night.

I went to my sock drawer and collected the box. I turned the lights off; I remembered I wouldn’t normally be home. I sat on the couch and stared out the window.

She came home.

I took her coat and cooked her 2 minute noodles. I listened to her talk about her day and refrained from burping. I tried to be a gentleman, noodles and all.

I took out the box.

I thought it was funny when she opened it; a diamond ring couldn’t have made her smile more. A dozen diamond rings wouldn’t have made her happier.

That was the best sex.

I’m not the perfect guy and I know a lot of the time I don’t try. I am me though. Someone will always love you for who you are. I found her and I love her too.

I found her in a coffee shop, reading an old worn out book. I learnt that she had read it 24 times to that day, and only 3 more in the last 4 years. I guess she doesn’t need to dream as much. I know I don’t.

Her hair was messy and unkempt and she wore glasses. I miss that about her. That was before; she wears a suit and black heels, her hair slicked back in a pony.

I told her Sunday was lazy day; no suit, no hair tie, no heels, no phone. She said she felt better after a month. I guess she just needed to find herself again; I wanted to find her.

I didn’t go to UNI and I don’t have a PhD. I don’t need one to know that being someone you’re not isn’t worth it.

But I can live with one day a week for now. She’ll understand one day.

I proposed last week, even though I can’t afford a wedding. I don’t want to set a date. I want her to be herself first. I want her to find herself before she has to find me.

I go to work everyday and I love my job. I love the guys I work with and we have fun. The guys I work with are my mates. My family live close by and we have barbeques every month.

She comes home to complain about the office. She bitches about the other girls and calls the guys sleazebags. She hasn’t seen her dad in 5 years and her mum is too busy to visit.
I feel sorry for her and I try to make up for what she doesn’t have, but I can’t do it all. I won’ tell her to quit her job and I won’t tell her to talk to her dad.

Every day when I wake her, I tell her to follow her dreams; I tell her that if you follow your dreams you will be happy.

Every morning she tells me she is happy. She tells me her happiness is in the box in her sock drawer. She says her happiness lays next to her every night and comes home drunk early Saturday mornings. She tells me that she doesn’t need every thing in the world to be happy, she only needs me.

I realize now that we both have our dreams playing out in front of us.

She is the girl who works at the computer all day. She replaces her contacts with her multi-coloured glasses every night. She wears her hair messy and her grey track pants to bed. She chills with me on the couch even though I’m watching the footy.

She still takes the remote once a month; now she takes me to the alley instead. She holds my hand and we take the new dog for a walk. She doesn’t hog the bathroom; we share it and she doesn’t bitch anymore, she plays video games with me instead.

I’m setting a date tomorrow. I remembered our anniversary.

Description
I am a sports addict. I am a couch potato. I hog the remote and fart at inappropriate times. I am inconsiderate and I don’t do the dishes.

I am her man.

I don’t make the bed. I don’t fold the washing. I leave the toilet seat up and don’t wash my hands. I don’t pay attention and I can’t be bothered vacuuming.

I love her.

I chop down the trees. I bring the wood up. I mow the lawns and trim the hedges. I go out for beer and pool on Fridays.

She’s my girl.

I forget our anniversary. I remember the footy match 2 months from now. I scratch my balls and sniff my nose. I take up the whole bed and steal the covers.

She loves me.

She watches chick flicks. She plays with her food. She hogs the bathroom and sighs too much. She says she’s fine, even when she’s not and complains about the mess.

We fight a lot.

She paints her nails. She paints her face. She won’t wear track pants and she doesn’t chill. She remembers every little thing I ever said, and uses it against me.

The makeup sex is great.

She doesn’t have that much wrong really. I come home every night and the bed is made, the washing folded, the dishes done – and the toilet seat down. She makes me dinner and steals the remote once a month.

It’s awesome when she doesn’t play the game.

It’s awesome when she wears her grey track pants and too big jumper. It’s awesome when we play video games and it’s awesome when she relaxes.

The sex is better when she isn’t stressed.

I decided it was time to show her me. I didn’t take her to a fancy restaurant, and I didn’t buy her an expensive ring. I went to the market and carried the food home. I turned the stove on, just to prove I know how to use it. I did the vacuuming, and I put the lid down. I folded the washing and did my dishes.

I hid the remote.

I set the table and lit the candles. I remembered the bed, and actually made it. I let all the farts rip, and scratched by balls enough for the night. I blew my nose and washed my hands.

It was Friday night.

I went to my sock drawer and collected the box. I turned the lights off; I remembered I wouldn’t normally be home. I sat on the couch and stared out the window.

She came home.

I took her coat and cooked her 2 minute noodles. I listened to her talk about her day and refrained from burping. I tried to be a gentleman, noodles and all.

I took out the box.

I thought it was funny when she opened it; a diamond ring couldn’t have made her smile more. A dozen diamond rings wouldn’t have made her happier.

That was the best sex.

I’m not the perfect guy and I know a lot of the time I don’t try. I am me though. Someone will always love you for who you are. I found her and I love her too.

I found her in a coffee shop, reading an old worn out book. I learnt that she had read it 24 times to that day, and only 3 more in the last 4 years. I guess she doesn’t need to dream as much. I know I don’t.

Her hair was messy and unkempt and she wore glasses. I miss that about her. That was before; she wears a suit and black heels, her hair slicked back in a pony.

I told her Sunday was lazy day; no suit, no hair tie, no heels, no phone. She said she felt better after a month. I guess she just needed to find herself again; I wanted to find her.

I didn’t go to UNI and I don’t have a PhD. I don’t need one to know that being someone you’re not isn’t worth it.

But I can live with one day a week for now. She’ll understand one day.

I proposed last week, even though I can’t afford a wedding. I don’t want to set a date. I want her to be herself first. I want her to find herself before she has to find me.

I go to work everyday and I love my job. I love the guys I work with and we have fun. The guys I work with are my mates. My family live close by and we have barbeques every month.

She comes home to complain about the office. She bitches about the other girls and calls the guys sleazebags. She hasn’t seen her dad in 5 years and her mum is too busy to visit.
I feel sorry for her and I try to make up for what she doesn’t have, but I can’t do it all. I won’ tell her to quit her job and I won’t tell her to talk to her dad.

Every day when I wake her, I tell her to follow her dreams; I tell her that if you follow your dreams you will be happy.

Every morning she tells me she is happy. She tells me her happiness is in the box in her sock drawer. She says her happiness lays next to her every night and comes home drunk early Saturday mornings. She tells me that she doesn’t need every thing in the world to be happy, she only needs me.

I realize now that we both have our dreams playing out in front of us.

She is the girl who works at the computer all day. She replaces her contacts with her multi-coloured glasses every night. She wears her hair messy and her grey track pants to bed. She chills with me on the couch even though I’m watching the footy.

She still takes the remote once a month; now she takes me to the alley instead. She holds my hand and we take the new dog for a walk. She doesn’t hog the bathroom; we share it and she doesn’t bitch anymore, she plays video games with me instead.

I’m setting a date tomorrow. I remembered our anniversary.