There are days when I catch myself muttering about my partner, Nathan, under my breath, especially after stumbling over his shoes in the hallway or while trying to drift off to sleep amidst his loud snoring. I often wonder if he could just breathe in a more rhythmic way; perhaps then I could find solace in it instead of feeling like I’m in a snoring battle every night.
At dinner, I find myself observing him from across the table and reflecting on how I somehow overlooked the sounds he makes while eating during our dating days. Did he put on a show back then? Can’t he hear that? When our playful banter turns into a full-blown disagreement, I sometimes fantasize about the freedom of solitude. A life where my voice carries the most weight, where I wouldn’t have to pick up his receipts or turn the car around because he forgot his wallet once again. I dream of a home where I wouldn’t need to think of him at all.
I often contemplate whether I would be happier with a partner who notices the little things—like picking up after himself, or understanding that tidying up the counter matters. I think back to an old college boyfriend, a neat freak who would have kept everything spotless. I imagine a perfect world where marriage is shared with someone who values these details as much as I do. In that alternate reality, my space would be pristine, and my ears would be at peace.
Yet here I am, in this reality, living with Nathan—the man I chose. Sometimes I glance over and catch him admiring me, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “What’s up? Why are you staring?” “You’re stunning,” he replies, and I feign indifference, even though it warms my heart to hear those words.
As I prepare for bed, I grimace at my reflection. I step on the scale with a sigh, and he brushes his teeth, proclaiming, “Stop it, you’re perfect just the way you are,” while leaving a mess of toothpaste splatter on the counter.
When I indulge in pistachios, I have this ridiculous habit of sucking off the salt, cracking the shells with my teeth, and then sucking some more. It’s a gross routine, and I even let out loud burps for fun, rating them on a scale of 1 to 10 based on volume and duration. I can be a bit lax with personal hygiene, sometimes going days without a shower while my hair turns greasy and I opt to ditch the bra at home. My body isn’t what it used to be; it has its flaws and imperfections.
Yet Nathan adores me just as I am. He frequently praises my abilities as a mom, a cook, and even claims I have a knack for interior design—though I don’t. He marvels at my writing, saying, “I could never write a book; that’s incredible.” His unwavering support makes me feel special, as though my existence is significant among the billions out there. Strangely, he seems oblivious to my flaws. Why is he blind to them?
Many husbands nitpick their wives, suggesting they could lose a bit of weight or tidy up better. But Nathan? He loves me wholly, imperfections and all, and he can’t stay upset with me for long. Holding a grudge seems foreign to him.
I could find someone who chews quietly, remembers to pick up his socks, or squeezes the toothpaste from the bottom. Perhaps I could even find a partner who doesn’t snore or does so softly.
But I could spend a lifetime searching and never encounter someone who offers the kind of pure, selfless love that Nathan does. It wouldn’t be me they loved, for I often feel unworthy of such affection, with my numerous quirks and irritations. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, yet he does so effortlessly.
Nathan tells me he’s the lucky one, that he can’t fathom how he deserves me. In truth, he has it all wrong. He could have loved anyone else just as fiercely—someone who wouldn’t mind the sounds of wet chewing. But for reasons unknown, he chose me and continues to choose me daily, as if loving me is as natural as breathing.
He is not the lucky one; I am.
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Summary:
The article explores the author’s mixed feelings about her partner, Nathan, who believes he is the fortunate one in their relationship. While she sometimes feels frustrated by his habits and lack of awareness, she ultimately recognizes and appreciates the unconditional love he gives her. Despite contemplating idealized alternatives, she realizes that Nathan’s selfless affection is irreplaceable, and she feels grateful for their bond.