Beatrice brushing her teeth

Is love the big things or the little things? Or is it something else altogether?

Can a naive infatuation grow into something more mature and valuable?

Is it love when the person you care about doesn't even know you?

Would Dante have inevitably gotten irritated at the way Beatrice brushed her teeth and left hairballs in the sink? Would she have been disgusted at his farts and nose-picking?

***

Some things I love about Danny that I've been thinking about now for a long time, itching to write about, are how he literally never complains or even seems to notice those kinds of flaws in me. I'm a girl. I have long hair. It used to be much longer. Hairballs really were and are a thing, especially from brushes. Those things try to land in the garbage but are so light and airborne they often fail. The vacuum cleaner is always full of hair. The washing machine is always full of hair. The dryer lint catcher is always full of hair.

It's really gross and annoying to me, too.

But Danny doesn't ever get annoyed by it, at least outwardly. He's also literally never asked me to take a shower because I smell horrible, even though that happens sometimes. I mean, I'm a girl so my sweat's supposed to smell like roses, but the truth is, it doesn't. Hahaha.

Danny has told me before that he's very good at deciding to put the irritating things in a little box and shelve it for a while. He usually throws away all those little boxes before ever opening them. Actually, I'm pretty certain he doesn't even box half the kinds of things I would.

My emotions don't work like that at all, though. I don't have boxes and shelves. I don't nitpick his hygiene constantly (unless I'm pregnant, but that's a special case where I feel constantly nauseous and surrounded by horrible smells and headachey and exhausted). But that's... Because he has good hygiene. But also because I love him. I want to be kind.

Danny isn't very assertive when it comes to the little things. Sometimes this is quite frustrating because I want to please him and he wants keep the peace. Quite often I am the driving force in decisions and actions. I am constantly asking him to do x or y for me. He doesn't tend to take the initiative to just do the little things himself. This can be good but it can also be quite stressful for me. I actually... Really enjoy the feeling of being needed. I enjoy submitting my will to his. It's not much fun to have to pry that will out with a crowbar. Or to feel like a nag or a control freak.

Danny is firm and unwaveringly steady in the big things. He wakes up every Sunday morning at 5:30 or 6 am to attend bishopric meeting. He gets himself all the way ready for church without complaining. I've never heard him complain about that. He's steady in his work commitments even though it would be easy to not keep a full accounting of his hours, since he's salaried and his boss is extremely relaxed and accommodating. Danny also tries very hard to make sure that I get enough sleep. For the past few years, this means he has been in charge of getting the kids ready for school. He does this without help, including praying and reading scriptures with them. Our scripture study together isn't always particularly long or in depth, but I don't even remember missing a day. We've read all the scriptures together, from cover to cover.

Danny keeps my computer up to date. He also pays our tithing. He is good at those kinds of steady things.

I'm not.

I'm good at paying the bills. Most of the time. I'm good at cooking dinner. Unless I'm too tired, and we just order pizza. I'm good at keeping a clean house, in spite of the other five disasters we live with. Except when I'm a slob. Granted, I'm not... I'm not as much of a slob as some people who I won't name. I am not always very good at balancing my responsibilities. I'm unusually good at finding pleasure in work-like activities that don't have to do with my physical body. I get really bored with caring for this outside shell, but I consistently try to do so anyway. It's never fun in the moment for me. 

I don't measure my love for Danny by the sum total of how well he performs in these capacities. I just... Love him.

I would love him even if he were much more difficult to live with.

I'm reminded of a specific thought I had when I was dating, a special time when you get to kind of try out what other people are like and decide what matters to you. Something that mattered to me then, and still matters to me now, is that I have to be able to eat around him. Sometimes people can be so disgusting when they chew. Bad table manners are just the tip of it, though; I don't want to be with someone who hovers over my plate or tries to control my eating with weird comments. I grew up with that, to some extent. I understand now how and why that happened. But I still don't like it.

I have never, not once in my life, felt like that around Danny. The only time I don't like eating around him is when he's eating cereal and I'm not. But that's just because it's really ridiculously crunchy and it's a weird little quirk if mine with literally anyone. I am positive he's not a grosser cereal eater than anyone else, and I'm also positive he's a less gross cereal eater than many people who shall remain nameless.

True love is work. It's promises and renewed commitment to keep them. It's relaxing with a person you can really trust. It's feeling at home. It's sharing the big and the little. It's going to meet him at work for lunch even when it means I'm not going to get the time I wanted to myself. It's picking out the kind of crackers I know he likes. It's asking for things that I want nicely, with pleases and thank yous and kisses. It's smiling. It's listening. It's trusting everything I have and am to someone else, and covenanting with them and with God that I will be loyal. It's sharing a stupid article that made me laugh and laugh and laugh. It's telling them how they can be better in a kind, gentle way - like a suggestion or proposal more than a criticism. It's dreaming about him and longing to be with him at all times. It's wishing the children could be quiet and not need so much attention so we could have a full conversation without interruptions. It's cooking a favorite meal or leaving a small note somewhere for him to find. It's making sure I put on makeup and do something with my hair to look a bit nice. It's a constant desire to become pregnant, even when I really actually don't think that makes any kind of logical sense for our family. It is feeling happy and understood even when there are no words. It's the way I feel about Danny.

This kind of love is easy for me to understand. What's hard is to figure out the limits of friendship-love and to feel satisfied within them. I want to have close, lasting friends. I can't love my friends in this way, for a host of religious, logistical, moral, legal, practical, etc. reasons. How can you be satisfied with less once you learn what's possible? But isn't that the wrong question - more people doesn't mean more of this kind of love.

I think Dante wasn't necessarily fated to experience the terribly sad unrequited love that he did. If he and Beatrice could've shared their lives, who knows. Maybe it would have grown into something better and...and there'd be no seminal works of Italian literature to dissect centuries later.

We don't write about real love. I don't know why that is. Maybe there's just so much less time for it. My life is busy.

Fortunately, there are reems and reems written about real friendship, as well as seven seasons of My Little Pony exploring related themes. I've watched them all with my daughters.

Another fortunately: I'm friendable, ie I can probably hope to eventually learn this from experience. It is not easy, natural, or at all stress-free for me. But it is fun and brings me joy, so it seems to be worth the effort.