My wife is not the girl of my dreams…

If I told you that the day I met Asha was the day I met the girl I had always dreamed of, it would be a lie.

Never once, not in my most romantic or wishful dreams, did I ever imagine that a girl like her could exist.

If you took an all-mighty artificial intelligence and asked it to analyze what Eddy is and create his ideal companion, it would create Asha. Our bodies fit like a 2-piece jigsaw puzzle, our philosophies align & mesh, even our bloody flaws compliment each other.

Our fights are loud, unabashed (even when in public), and furious. Our sex is much the same.

We’re both some of the most selfish people we know, and yet it pleases us to no end to spend about 90% of our time (literally) with each other.

We’ve been homeless & broke, we’ve shattered each other’s hearts (I’ve done that more than her), we’ve opened up our relationship despite being jealous people & put in all the effort it takes to make that work, we’ve been through months of near constant fighting, we’ve seen each other broken & crying & lashing out hard at the one person in the world we most love, we’ve had literally thousands of people tell us how stupid and shitty we are as a couple and as individuals (all in about 72 hours…woah).

Yet, somehow, we’ve lived that near-impossible cliche and continually come out stronger.

Occasionally, I’ll glance up at her and forget what I was doing in a wave of pure love & attraction & wonder at her absolute perfection.

Occasionally, I’ll hear her sing, taste her food, listen to her play piano, read her writing, see her art, hear to her describe why something is excellently designed, touch the body she’s designed for herself through countless hours in the gym… and be in complete awe at the unbridled power and unknown depth of her innate creativity & lust for life.

Occasionally, it’ll hit me that she’s perfect. Perfect for me. And each passing day seems to make that more true, as we improve ourselves constantly and get better at loving and improving each other, all the while somehow winding up deeper in love & attraction & mutual enjoyment.

I would tell you that I plan on dying in this girl’s arms or having her die in mine… except neither of us ever plan on letting a silly biological inefficiency like aging be the end of us.

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