"why do you love me?"

On the eve of his 30th birthday party, while pleasantly inebriated, Troy poised the single question that halted time and space.

"Why do you love me?"

A simple questioning, demanding a complex answer.

He waited for days, as I furiously fumbled for words to convey feelings. As a result, the inspired novel came into fruition.

Love, as a verb required no effort. It came with grace and blessings.

On occasion, Troy would ask that fateful question again

"Why do you love me?"

The hodgepodge of answers varied:
humble, fuckably cute, the kind of father he is, loves jesus, gives me hope, looks good without clothes, ridiculously funny crazy makes me laugh, retardedness

I also asked him that same question in repetition for reassurance.

"Why do you love me?"

Spudgy would supply with adjectives to describe what he saw in me: strong in faith, funny, perfect disposition, smart, beautiful, kid voice is crazy cute, retarded, sexy, honesty, compassion, ability to make him smile... etc

While it would placate any woman into proverbial mush, I must confess that there has been a moment or two I felt ... incomplete. I told myself, "there must be more than that, something deeper"

Unknowingly, Troy would often verify this "in more reasons that I could explain" or "in reasons indescribable dear".

The realization finally hit me last night, in listening to and appreciating my own body for the first time in a long time. (which has nothing to do with sexual pleasure, merely an epiphany) I came across the most important answer above all else.

"Why do you love me?"

"I don't know. And I don't care"

LOVE SIMPLY IS.

Damnit. Troy Benjamin was right after all.