Polo

I had to ask my husband the obvious question on everyone's no one's mind.

 

"Why do you think you still love me after all these years?"

 

And I was half smiling as I asked it, and he was half laughing as he immediately responded:

 

"Because I never know what I'm going to get with you".

 

Which is his way of saying I am a loose cannon, I guess.

 

But I always know he loves me,

 

even when I am an asshole, and I'm usually trying to wrap my head around why he can muster up so much adoration for someone who is constantly complaining about how much ditry laundry he creates (and leaves all over the floor...).

 

And I had to ask him as he found me huddled in bed, my buns and thighs still achy and sore from too many power squats and jump lunges.  I was coccooning.  I was reflecting. And I was trying to hide when he cornered me.

 

He was wearing one of the shirts I bought him for Christmas.  A maroon-colored polo. 

I can count on my hand how many men I find so incredibly handsome in a polo, and Lloyd is one of them.

His slender, yet strong build is who designers have in mind when they want a man to rock a short-sleeved, crisp collared shirt.

And the color suited him so well, and it brought out everything I find physically attractive about him.

It wasn't a color I had bought anything in for him before, but just like the cyan colored one I had impulsively purchased for him a few months prior, I was drawn to the rich, dark hue and classic, slim-build design.

I know Lloyd.

And my favorite colors for Lloyd used to be a true, firey red or orange that highlighted his dark features.

But then he changed, or maybe what I like changed, and though he may never really know what he's going to get with me, he'll know that I will always pay attention to that which brings out the best in him.