It's My Man's Birthday

Y'ALL. It is my man's birthday!!! Twenty-two years ago my handsome, intelligent, wonderful hunk of a man was a blubbering newborn who didn't know how to do anything but poop and cry.

Normally I don't like to show too much PDA. In high school I was pretty much against any relationship that wasn't between my favorite characters in books, and some of that behavior will never go away. But this guy is pretty special. Like I said at the the end of freshmen year on an instagram post: "I'm a sentimental sack of shit who 2010-2013 Taylor would hate because he's turned me into the relationship type of girl (who still enjoys making fun of the people I'm now just like)." So, bare with me. I'm gonna get a little soft on you for a second or two.

Thank you for always encouraging me and thank you for only laughing at me when I cry *sometimes*. Thank you for choosing me over League of Legends, even though you've loved it longer than you've loved me. Thank you for cooking supper when I'm too lazy and for eating Slim Chickens with me when we're both too lazy--even though it's nothing compared to Cane's.

I love how much random knowledge you have about so many things. I love that you care enough about our fish to watch YouTube videos to learn about how you can best take care of them. I love that you at least pretend to care about the bands and the books and the tv shows that I care about. I love that when we go on a run or do insanity and I start breathing like a Walrus after roughly 35 seconds you smile and encourage me to keep doing my best. I also love looking at your butt when doing said exercises. I love that you empower not only me, but all women, and that you're not afraid of strong women. I do not love that your fingers are colder than Antartica 97% of the time, but it doesn't stop me from loving you anyway.

Here's 22 of my favorite fetus (aka freshman year) Lucas photos:

Happy 22nd birthday, Lukey. I love doing life with you.

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