This morning, we paid for the rings for our civil partnership and spent a small fortune on food and gifts so that we could be a sickeningly sweet couple tomorrow.
This afternoon, "my" football team beat "your" football team 4-1. You shrugged, smiled anyway, kissed me, and disappeared to the bedroom "to read and have a quick kip" (in short, to sulk without wanting me to know). Had the result been reversed, I suspect I would not have spoken to you before our civil partnership, and your face would quite probably have had something rude scribbled across in it permanent marker whilst you slept. Or gotten stuck in the u-bend.
That's why I love you. It is also why so many of my past lovers flew like the wind within a few hours or days, and why the football league will now have FA Cup placings to add to the list of reasons why they will have to try to help Pompey survive.
These all matter (not equally, but that's football for you), and have made an old whinger like me feel all warm and content. Look - I'm putting something on my blog and it isn't even hateful shit.
You mean more than I think I can ever let you know.
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