There was a time I brushed my teeth, hair sprayed my hair and lipsticked my lips if I even thought I might run into this guy on the way to class.
I never wanted him to see me at anything less than my absolute, albeit big haired, best.
And now here we are . . . bringing sexy back with our his and her CPAP machines.
This is what love actually looks like friends.
Not like the girl who did herself up as cute as possible for each pass by the night host stand and who picked out her outfit so carefully for that first date (and spilled an entire Coke down the front of her cream body suit in the darkness of the movie theatre and almost died of embarrassment).
Not like the boy who put his best foot forward with perfect manners, perfect curly hair and so much charm.
Not like both of us making sure all appearances were perfect and all flaws hidden.
Instead it looks like suffering through long, long, loud nights of your partner snoring.
And snoring. And snoring.
And mornings where your wife is a giant pile of smeared mascara and grouchy attitude because once again insomnia claimed her nighttime hours.
And then laughing your heads off when we end up with CPAP machines and yet you just can’t wait to jump into bed together. To try these things out and finally both get a good sleep.
This is what love looks like.
And I think it looks better than ever.
This article was originally published on Hiding in the Closet with Coffee by Amy Betters-Midtvedt
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