As I was fixing myself a bowl of ramen today, I thought of how Karen always had an aversion to ramen--unless I made it. (The funniest things can trigger the most obscure memories, can't they.) When we were first married, I remember talking about how much I loved ramen and that I could eat it all the time (and it's so cheap too), and she said that she thought it was gross and preferred her own cooking. (I prefer home cooking too, but ramen is so convenient and cheap.) Anyway, one time I made some ramen for myself and Karen wanted to take a bite, so she did--and ended up finishing the bowl for me. Then a few days later, she made a bowl for herself, took one bite, and didn't want the rest (she's anything but a picky eater, so it was a complete shock that she didn't finish it). When asked about the difference, she said that she liked the way I made ramen better.
I would notice that over the three years we were married, it seemed as though the food on my plate was more attractive to her than the food on her own plate--even when it was the exact same food. I didn't mind at all, because that meant that I could finish off her plate of food. But, I did find the phenomenon completely perplexing. How was my food any better than her food? Was it really possible that I was more skilled at microwaving ramen noodles than she was? Something didn't make sense.
That is, it didn't make sense until now. Now I can understand what it was that made Karen enjoy my food more than her own. She was infatuated with me--as every person should be with their spouse. I now know what it is like to be in love with someone and infatuated with them at the same time. I love watching Conrad eat. I get the strangest pleasure from seeing it. I would probably have never played Pokemon ever in my entire life, but the fact that Conrad plays makes me like the game. When he first moved in, he gave me two of his games to play and I played them for hours at a time, sincerely enjoying them--but not because they are games that I would have independently found enjoyable, but because they were games that Conrad liked.
I love wearing Conrad's shoes (they're the only apparel we can share because he weighs less than half of what I weigh). I have my own sandals and my own shoes, but his are more fun to wear because they're his. Every once in a while, just around the house, I'll put on one of his shirts. Of course, it almost bursts at the seams when I do, but it's fun just to wear his clothes. And it makes him smile. When he's at work and I'm home, I stare at the clock willing it to go faster so that he can be home with me. On days when I'm supposed to stay late at school for a seminar and he's home because it's his day off, I find it difficult to stay at school, so I just go home so I can see him.
The yearning to please him, to be with him, to make him smile and be happy, is stronger than pretty much any emotion I have ever felt. What makes being with him so amazing? Nothing, other than the fact that it's him. What makes watching him eat so thrilling? Nothing--I get no similar pleasure from watching anyone else eat--it's just because it's him. What makes wearing his shoes so fun? Nothing, other than the fact that they're his shoes. I have no desire to wear anyone else's clothes or play anyone else's videogames. All of these feelings I have revolving around doing things with Conrad are solely because I am infatuated with him. He lights up my eye and brings a spring to my step. In my own opinion, everyone deserves to have someone that makes them this happy.
I would notice that over the three years we were married, it seemed as though the food on my plate was more attractive to her than the food on her own plate--even when it was the exact same food. I didn't mind at all, because that meant that I could finish off her plate of food. But, I did find the phenomenon completely perplexing. How was my food any better than her food? Was it really possible that I was more skilled at microwaving ramen noodles than she was? Something didn't make sense.
That is, it didn't make sense until now. Now I can understand what it was that made Karen enjoy my food more than her own. She was infatuated with me--as every person should be with their spouse. I now know what it is like to be in love with someone and infatuated with them at the same time. I love watching Conrad eat. I get the strangest pleasure from seeing it. I would probably have never played Pokemon ever in my entire life, but the fact that Conrad plays makes me like the game. When he first moved in, he gave me two of his games to play and I played them for hours at a time, sincerely enjoying them--but not because they are games that I would have independently found enjoyable, but because they were games that Conrad liked.
I love wearing Conrad's shoes (they're the only apparel we can share because he weighs less than half of what I weigh). I have my own sandals and my own shoes, but his are more fun to wear because they're his. Every once in a while, just around the house, I'll put on one of his shirts. Of course, it almost bursts at the seams when I do, but it's fun just to wear his clothes. And it makes him smile. When he's at work and I'm home, I stare at the clock willing it to go faster so that he can be home with me. On days when I'm supposed to stay late at school for a seminar and he's home because it's his day off, I find it difficult to stay at school, so I just go home so I can see him.
The yearning to please him, to be with him, to make him smile and be happy, is stronger than pretty much any emotion I have ever felt. What makes being with him so amazing? Nothing, other than the fact that it's him. What makes watching him eat so thrilling? Nothing--I get no similar pleasure from watching anyone else eat--it's just because it's him. What makes wearing his shoes so fun? Nothing, other than the fact that they're his shoes. I have no desire to wear anyone else's clothes or play anyone else's videogames. All of these feelings I have revolving around doing things with Conrad are solely because I am infatuated with him. He lights up my eye and brings a spring to my step. In my own opinion, everyone deserves to have someone that makes them this happy.
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