Happy anniversary, my love! Gosh, the time has flown, and I feel like we are two completely different people from who we were when we said “I do.” While you are still incredibly handsome, I have something to admit to you . . . My taste in men has drastically changed since I met you.
No longer do big gym rat muscles, dark hair, and young vibrant skin do it for me. Instead give me the sexy dad-bod figure, forged by the consumption of the kids’ leftover chicken nuggets and mac ‘n cheese and by post-bedtime runs to Sheetz for secret, mommy-daddy, milkshake pick-me-ups. Give me the toned arms only maintaining their form because of the innumerable times our kids want to be swept up in them, knowing it’s the safest (and most fun) place for them to be.
Forget the head of perfectly gelled, dark brown hair. Instead, give me the handsome salt and pepper hair with the low-cost hair establishment cut because of our tight single-income budget. Babe, you make that $20 cut look gooood. And it might be more salt than pepper these days, but that will do just fine for me as the look sends me to the moon with swoon-worthy, distinguished, George Clooney vibes. Babe, I’ve lost the desire for fresh unmarked skin. Give me the fine lines that grow deeper each day around your eyes, cheeks, and smile, put there by wearisome days and sleepless nights, outbursts of squinty-eyed, tear-inducing laughter, and painful winces from hurts—surface level and deeper.
My love, my tastes have changed indeed, but they have changed every bit as much as you have. No longer do I care to spend time with a young idealistic, self-reliant hot rod. Instead, I crave the presence of a loyal, steady rock of a man. Full of wisdom, inner strength, and a beautiful faith that has been obtained through hardships, sacrifice, and a desperate need for a Savior. Give me that man.
The man who stays up late, not to game with his buddies, but to clean up the kitchen I was too exhausted to get to. The man who burns the midnight oil in order to reassess our budget that he is constantly tweaking so that we can live and give as well as possible.
Give me the man who you’ve always been—the one who doesn’t back down from a fight and who lets me know when he feels he’s been disrespected or wronged. But give me that man plus the newer version who has grown to approach those scenarios with abundant grace and a quickness to forgive and forget.
Give me the man who makes me a better woman. The one who forces me to tap out when I’m at my wits end with the kids and who holds me accountable when I lose control. The man who tests my patience as I show him time and time again where things are located in the fridge. (Although admittedly, I thought and hoped that was a phase that would’ve passed with the younger man, hah! What a dreamer I was!)
Give me the man who still looks at me with desire after my body has been transformed beyond recognition from carrying and birthing three babies. The man who sees all the decades-long, work-in-progress parts of my heart and still chooses me over and over again.
Give me the man who roots for me, prays for me, honors me, and fights for me. Give me that man. The current man you are.
Old me loved and desired the man you were. The budding, handsome, fire-filled, silly dreamer boy I fell in love with once upon a time.
Current me loves and desires the man you are. The strong, even more handsome, honorable, and successful man to whom I wake up every day loving more than I did the day before. The man of my dreams and beyond.
by Jessica Satterfield 
by Heather Delaney 
