"You're My Favorite!"

So. The last five months have been nothing short of a whirlwind, and it's been some of the best months of my life so far. I have found an incredible support system, a village, and I have begun to reclaim my life in ways that I never thought I would be able to do so.

And all through it is him. My best friend. My partner. My confidant. My encourager.

And yeah, we're goofy. And weird. And like to sing. And will squeeze each other until we can't breathe. And make all the most ridiculous puns that you can think of, and then a lot that you can't think of. And it's amazing. It might have taken six years, but it's fantastic and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

A while ago, I actually started writing this post in my head. While I was laying in bed with him, just after he had taken his kids back to their mother, and the silence was almost deafening in our ears. He didn't turn the TV on, like we normally do. His phone was down (which is almost a gift at times, but I'm not too bothered by his distraction there), and his hand was just resting on that curve of my rib cage. (I know, you're all probably just rolling your eyes at this picture I'm drawing here, two lovebird just GUSHING all over each other (GROOOOOOSSSSS!!!!) and wincing with disgust over the pheromones that are just reeking from my post.)

It was quiet. Peaceful. His heart beating against my ear, his warmth permeating my being, the silence enveloping us into a world that I doubt anyone else would ever be able to access but us, together. And in that moment, he squeezed me just a little harder, kissed my forehead, and asked me: "Do you know you're my favorite?"

I don't know if there is a phrase that holds more significance to the evolution of our relationship than that. A year ago, he would specify.
"You're my favorite daughter!" (To his ONLY little girl)
"He's my favorite son!" (About his ONLY son)
"You're my favorite person above five feet tall." (To me)
"You're my favorite miniature brunette." (To my daughter)

And as the months pass on, the things he says to the children stay the same, with the same inflection, the same energy, the same love and surety. But for me, his sentence has condensed down into three simple, earth shattering, concrete words.

You're. My. Favorite.

And what can I do but agree? The woman he sees....she's my favorite, too.