It’s like… okay:
So when my brother was very young my parents would give him crushed up ice-chips and tell him it was ice-cream, while they had their sundaes or whatever. I’m actually not sure why. Cheapskateism? Sadism? Health concerns?
“Ice-cream! Get ice-cream!” He loved that crap. Didn’t know the difference. Until one day an uncle or grandmother or someone gave him REAL ice-cream. And the jig was up.
Now he’s never said he was mad about this. I guess he just devoured the ice-cream with confusion? Or unbridled joy? Obviously he would never be satisfied with crushed up ice again.
Anyways what I’m trying to say is it’s been 21 years of ice-chips before I met you.
I can’t explain to anyone why I’m still with you through all this. People think you were just my first longterm/serious relationship, and now I’m trapped in that. There is something you have that I can’t label. Something you have that other people just don’t. Almost no one.
And okay it’s gonna be hard. Explaining to my entire extended family that you aren’t a Christian, (cue the horrified glances when I’m looking the other way) and that yes, I intend to kick it on the daily, forever, with you.
But I can’t imagine it won’t be worth it.