The eighty-ninth thing I love about us is talking about nothing. When I can sit with you and realize that whatever we're saying is the most frivolous, pointless, unimportant topic anyone could ever address, the fact that I am still awash in joy reminds me just how perfect you are.
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What if we go out on a date? We're always such homebodies (and I mean everyone around this place), and even though it's a nice home ...
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The two hundred and eighty-seventh thing I love about us is, when I'm around you, I only want to curse if things are curse-ably good, or...
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The one hundred twenty-seventh thing I love about us is the perfection of our repartee. You have a beautiful gift for expressing thoughts th...
I guess that means when you say yuck and change the subject, whatever I was saying must have been important? Because I remember one time I was telling you about how I sneezed into a tissue and then was all grossed out about what I saw in there, and you said, "Do you mean that tissue in your hand right now? Please don't show me," and that was the whole end of the conversation.
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