The Mister

I am a lucky, lucky girl.  I tell myself that at least a couple times a week.  Not because I'm trying to trick myself into believing it, but because it's true.

I'm married to a truly wonderful man.  Yes, he's fucked up, made mistakes, but so have I.  I still love him passionately and he, apparently, after knowing me for 13 years, still loves me.

The beginning of our relationship was rocky, an emotional roller coaster (I'm talking Six Flags here, people, not the county fair), but we've since settled into a supportive, encouraging, stable partnership.
He's let me be who I am--let me live with him in Canada with no expectations of getting a job since we were constantly "we'll leave next month", pushed me to finish my college education while working part time, and once he was in a position to support us both, let me know it was ok for me not to work if I didn't want to.
That's the hard part for me:  I was raised to believe I was an independent, strong woman who could do it all alone.  Then I fell in love and the man I'm with allows me to stay at home if I so wish.  And I do wish.  I also wish I could get a job in my field, since he really wanted me to finish school.
While I wait for that opportunity, I get to be an at-home wife, cooking and cleaning while he's out working to provide for us. When he comes home at the end of the day, I'm not exhausted from dealing with people all day long (which can be extremely exhausting for introverts) and he can tell me about his day, whether it was good or bad, without me having a negative reaction because of my own shit (like I did when I was at my last job).
I've never had any other romantic relationship, so I don't know how this compares, but to me it feels pretty damn awesome--but that could be because I'm a spoiled little shit.