I blame you.

Ya know… not gonna lie–

There are quite a few things that are entirely your fault.

Now, I think you should know these things, so you can take responsibility. 😆

So here we go…

I blame you for making me like rugs even more.

I already liked rugs.

This was manageable.

Then you came along with your love of Persian rugs, talking about traveling to Iran to buy one like this was a perfectly normal early-dating conversation.

Now we’re buying hand-knotted rugs off FB Marketplace and getting married on them.

Now, I can never part with these rugs, and wonder what would we do if we ever down sized to a smaller home.

Maybe we just hang them on the walls?

You made an existing condition significantly worse. 😂

I blame you for Zillow.

Again…

I liked looking at Zillow when I would try to find a rental for myself.

But now?

It’s an activity.

It’s something we do on a slow evening night.

We critique wall colors. (Ew, why did they paint EVERY SINGLE ROOM a different color??!)

We admire weird architecture.

We discuss houses we aren’t buying in places we aren’t moving to.

And apparently we have VERY strong opinions about what constitutes an acceptable bathroom photograph. 😆

I blame you for making ordinary weekends feel insufficient.

Before we met, I could sit at home for an entire weekend and think,

“Well, that was nice.”

Then you showed up.

Now we’re always finding somewhere to go.

Or planning somewhere to go.

Or even thinking about should we go somewhere.

But too many places to go and spend so much time trying not to waste a beautiful Saturday afternoon. ☀️

I blame you for my camera roll.

What happened here?

Sunsets.

Stars.

Beaches.

Airb&bs.

Rugs.

Flowers.

Random houses.

Pictures of you.

Pictures of us.

Pictures of things I took solely because I knew you’d appreciate them.

Sneaking pics for stuff for this sacred website.

At this point, my phone is basically documenting our relationship without my permission. ❤️

I blame you for making the sky significantly more interesting.

Stars used to just be…

stars.

The sky is now a significant memory of you asking me to be yours forever.

Now there are meteor showers to watch.

Eclipses to wait 19 years for.

Meteorites that belong on wedding rings.

And clear nights that require us to stop whatever we’re doing and look up.

Apparently I have celestial plans through 2045 now.

Thanks. 😊

I blame you for my completely unreasonable expectations for Airbnbs.

A clean room and a decent bed used to be enough.

Not anymore.

Basic hotels just don’t really cut it anymore

Now apparently I need something unique.

Privacy.

A view.

Some sort of unusual feature.

Maybe a hot tub.

Preferably a sky dark enough to see the Milky Way.

And if the place isn’t at least slightly weird?

Why are we even there? 😩

I blame you for making flowers mean more than flowers.

You give them to me so often that they are a part of our story.

Now they’re never just flowers.

They’re you thought about me.

They’re you saw these and wanted me to have them.

They’re little reminders sitting on the counter that somebody loves me.

Very inconvenient. 🥹

I blame you for making seven hours seem completely insane now.

There was a time when seven hours between us was just part of the deal.

We drove it.

We flew to get around it.

We planned around it.

We counted down until the next weekend.

We said goodbye and did it all over again.

Now?

If you’re gone for the afternoon, I’m wondering when you’re coming home.

You’ve completely destroyed my tolerance for long distance.

Going to work for 8 hours now equates to long distance… 😆

I blame you for ruining being alone.

And I was GOOD at being alone.

I had already accepted it and was willing to live with that forever.

Then you had to come along and make your company my favorite.

Now I’ll be somewhere by myself and think,

“LD would love this.”

Or,

“I wish you were here.”

Or I’ll see something ridiculous and immediately reach for my phone because obviously you need to know about it too.

Rude. 😜

I blame you for making me believe I have entirely too much life left to live.

I thought I already knew what adulthood looked like.

Work. Kids. Bills. Responsibilities.

Repeat.

Then you came along in the middle of my life and somehow made everything feel like it was beginning again…. in the best way, ever.

Now there are places I want to see–

With You.

Things I want to experience–

With You.

Our special forever home.

More rugs to buy.

More beaches to walk.

More hikes to set out and accomplish.

More stars to watch.

More mornings to wake up beside you.

More everything. 😍

And finally…

I blame you for making forever seem entirely too short.

This one might actually be your worst offense.

Because before you…

a lifetime sounded like a very long time.

Now I’m doing the math.

Twenty years.

Thirty.

Forty.

Maybe fifty if we’re really lucky. 🍀

And suddenly I’m offended.

That’s it?!

I had to wait ALL THIS TIME to find you and that’s what I get?

Absolutely unacceptable. 🥹

So yes, Starman.

I blame you.

For the rugs.

The Zillow addiction.

The excessive planning.

The ridiculous number of photographs.

The flowers.

The stars.

The adventures.

The ordinary days that somehow don’t feel ordinary anymore.

And for completely ruining my ability to imagine a life that doesn’t have you in it.

This is all your fault.

And unfortunately for you…

I plan on holding you responsible for the rest of our lives.

❤️