So, Mr Manley. We've been together for ... um ... er ...well, since 1999, when we meet in Bristol. I have him very well trained by now of course ~ washing up, cups of tea, remembering birthdays and the like! He blames me for all the white hairs, but still puts up with everything I've thrown at him over the years. And believe me when I say that is no inconsiderable feat. He's not good at having photos taken though. Really not good.
I genuinely feel lucky to have found him, especially since we met so young. We haven't had the smoothest of paths to walk together, but we've held hands throughout. We can't not hold hands if we're walking together ~ we automatically reach for one another. A bit sickening I've been told, but never mind. Maybe because we've had eleven years of pushing pushchairs and wheelchairs and holding tiny toddler hands ~ perhaps we're still a novelty for one another!
He makes me laugh, and sometimes I think he knows me better than I do. He's much more relaxed about things than I am, and has endless reserves of patience. Where I get stressed about the details and the potential outcomes, Mr Manley is one of those 'so laid back he's almost horizontal' folk. By the way, am I the worst person in the world to be irritated by this? While I like to know all the things that might possibly go wrong, what the implications might be, it's hugely frustrating to be next to someone who is completely relaxed and calm! Sorry, off on a tangent. Maybe it works because we are quite different, maybe between the two of us we manage to get through most things.
He's my best friend, my lover, the father of my children, and the person I want to be when I grow up. He's mine, and I'm his.