So, I was watching Tough Love on VH1 today. (No, I don’t have a problem. I can stop watching bad reality tv whenever I want.) In this particular re-run, they played a game show called Cute or Crazy. The host shared some of the girls’ little quirks (I let my cat help me choose my next boyfriend, I wear a tiara around the house,) with a panel of guys, who were asked to hold up either a sign that read “CUTE” or “CRAZY.” The idea was to show the girls that some of their “cute” little idiosyncrasies are actually symptoms of being batshit “crazy”, and that they might want to let a new guy in on this little “fact” early on.
Which presents an interesting quandary. How do you define what’s “cute” and what’s “crazy”? It’s probably important to mention that as I asked myself this question I was in the kitchen, eating the bonnet off a week-old chocolate duck and drinking a fruffy-lulu drink while cleaning the kitchen with a long piece of string tied to the back of my pants so that my cat would follow me around, batting at it. To most people, this would probably be a clear sign of my deteriorating insanity. Luckily for me, my husband finds my instability endearing.
Which brings me to my REAL point. Everyone needs that person in their life, the one that appreciates all your awkward quirks and loves you for them. That is not to say that this special person has to be your spouse, or even your boy/girlfriend; romance has nothing to do with it. You need a best friend who appreciates the way that you snort when you laugh, a cousin who loves your perchance for knock-knock jokes, or a younger brother who doesn’t mind if you absentmindedly hum “If I Had a Million Dollars” under your breath for 6 hours straight. That someone who laughs when everyone else might force a nervous giggle and eye the exits. For me, that person comes in the form of my husband, who has on numerous occasions come home to find me watching Spongebob and sticking squares of tape to the back of our cat’s neck. But as long as Kyle keeps holding up those “CUTE” signs, I’ll be alright, because I know that he loves me at my bests and worsts, and that’s love that can last.
(Until he stops, and then I’ll go get me a sugar daddy.)