To my Valentine

I first wrote this in my old blog (the one I kept pre-kids) in 2005, almost ten years ago. And for Valentine's Day this year, I thought I would dig it up, blow the dust off it and update it.

It was very very nice to know there wasn't much to update. So here it is, for Packrat, my best friend for the last 15 years.

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You are the boy who spent your school fees on $10 worth of chicken wings thereupon getting a spanking from your mother.

You are the boy who grew up to play games every week with fellow boys.

You are the boy who got a Playstation 2 as an engagement present.

You are the boy who would eat like a boy if you lived alone, living on potato chips and Pepsi.

You are the boy who would like it very much if he didn't have to grow up.

But you are a boy who is also a guy.

You are that guy that she met at the pre-departure talk, who insulted her baby blue mobile phone in an attempt to get her phone number.

You are the guy that commented on how she stood like a dancer with her feet turned flat out.

You are that guy that apparently dedicated music to her over the radio and staked out the uni just hoping you would catch a glimpse of her.

You are the guy that got lucky when you bumped into her at the traffic just outside uni on the first day of school.

You are the guy that repeated her phone number all the way home just in case you forgot it and missed the chance again.

You are the guy that she out ate on your first date.

You are the guy that had to bear all the crap when she couldn't decide who she liked better, you or some other guy back home.

You are the guy that won her heart by buying her gummi bears and walking her home from ballet in the cold.

You are the guy that she impressed by eating through half a bucket of fried chicken and then sat back and asked what's for desert.

You are the guy that had to be taught what relationships were and in turn taught her how to work hard in a relationship.

You are the guy that put your thesis on the back burner while she wigged out about her own thesis through the year.

You are the guy who proposed to her on the plane back to Melbourne and made her dizzy.

You are the guy that wanted to wear Bata shoes to the wedding and refused to be put into ill-fitting Kenneth Coles.

You are the one who got up there during your wedding and sang to your bride.

You are the guy that endured the pillows hurled at you in her sleep.

You are the guy who would go out there and look for yak's milk from Yemen if she ever demanded it.

You are the guy that buys her flowers and burns her cds just to make her smile.

You are the guy who makes midnight runs for iced lemon tea and bandages when necessary.

You are the guy that believes, trusts and prays even when she has given up hope.

You are the guy of her dreams and her greatest fear is to live without you.

You are the guy who also became a dad.

But to your girl, you will always be that guy with the floppy hair and the tail of fringe that made her heart skip.

All growed up here.

Who are you? You are that guy and I am that girl.