Speaking my (love) language

Call me a materialist, but my love language is receiving gifts. It’s not that I like having stuff, it’s that, to me, gifts express thought and caring and communicate love very clearly. I feel loved when I receive a considered, thoughtful gift, no matter the size.

This is very foreign to my hubby, whose love language is decidedly not gifting. Gifts were never a big deal in his family, and they just aren’t something he ever put that much thought or effort into. It’s not that he didn’t care about the people he was getting gifts for, it was that giving a gift didn’t have much of a deeper meaning attached to it for him.

Over almost ten years of being together and almost five years of marriage, my hubby has learned how important gifts are to me and  has learned to speak my love language.

Right now he’s away at work (on a Saturday, boo), but I am feeling very loved,

eating the expensive meat and cheese he bought me when he was doing the grocery shopping because he knows I love it but would never spend money on it,

staring at the beautiful roses he got me because he knew I’d appreciate their unique coloration,

remembering the delicious dinner he picked up for us from Pita Pit last night because the closest one is an hour away but his work took him close to it and he knows how addicted I am to it.

I don’t talk about my hubby much on here, but I am so grateful to have a man who cares about me enough to learn to show me in the ways that speak loudest to me.

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