I first saw this on my best friend's pinterest (which she coincidentally pinned from another amazing friend of mine) and immediately fell in love with not only the gorgeous design, but the sentiment of the statement.
Not to get all sappy on you (after all Valentine's Day was two weeks ago... don't we get to be bitter and jaded again by now?), but this is a concept that my boyfriend and I talk about all the time: our little story.
It is so easy to get bogged down with the less-than-perfect moments. The moments in which you let your frustration overcome your immense love for someone and you, hopefully unintentionally, use a tone of voice that is more harsh than hug.
Take Valentine's Day, for example. I know, I know... two weeks ago. Just hang in there with me for a second...
On Valentine's Day I suggested that the two of us just have dinner at home (his place, that is - we are not at the cohabitation stage, but that is a very different story) to spend some quality time together. I offered to make dinner, and we were to open a great bottle of wine we'd purchased at a fantastic local Italian restaurant. To go the extra mile, I even brought a sexy little ensemble to cook in.
Before you start nominating me for the Girlfriend of the Year award, let me finish the story.
I had three (or was it four) different pots and pans going on the stove top. I've got a main dish, multiple side dishes, and salad in the works. I'm going all out (in my sexy little ensemble!!) to really prove my abilities as a domestic goddess.
And then the chicken mega burned.
Blame the stove. Blame the exhaustion. Blame the cursed holiday. Blame the stupid little ensemble that was distracting to both of us.
And then the meltdown consumed me.
Ugly crying ensued. Mascara streamed down my face. I used unladylike language. I full out collapsed on the (probably dirty) linoleum floor... in my now anything-but-sexy little ensemble.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Once I finally calmed down (okay, honestly? I don't think I ever fully calmed down) I made him swear never to tell anyone. He, calmly, politely, and sweetly asked, "What about in a few years at our wedding?"
"No, NEVER!!" I sobbed (see? I told you I never calmed down).
Obviously I've since come to my senses. His nomination for Boyfriend of the Year is in the mail, as he (literally) lifted me up off the floor, dried my tears, and assured me that my horrific antics only made him love me more, as I actually am and not as some weird contrived sex/domestic goddess.
He even let me put my sweatpants on.
And (finally getting to my point), he reminded me that this is just a part of our story. The good, the bad, and the childish temper tantrums... it's just a page. I am not my worst behavior. Our relationship isn't our most trying moments. Each of us has our own tiny story, and the two of us have chosen tie our tiny stories together.
Sometimes parts of the tiny stories suck, but the good news is... you can just turn the page and write a new chapter.