My boyfriend is adorable. He has a child-like fascination for arts, music, animals, nature. He enjoys a day at the zoo as much as a day at the museum. He’s not scared to try new foods or beers whose names he can’t pronounce or go to unfamiliar cities beyond the subway lines. We often spend entire days together, wandering from place to place, having little adventures instead of dates.
Thing is, my boyfriend has a moderate form of chronic fatigue syndrome. After our time together he often just simply cannot make it home or stand any longer. Instead of just calling him a cab and shoving him in, I lovingly carry him all the way back to the car or back to one of our flats. He clings to me like a koala, often falling asleep with his head nestled against my shoulder.
I’m proud to be his man. He told me his other boyfriends got bored and frustrated with his condition; he rarely left the house. The fact that I can make him smile and help him live a normal life is part of the reason I love him so much. He is so positive and optimistic, that I cannot help but be in a good mood around him. I don’t mind the stares of people as I carry my boyfriend down the street. I want them to know what love looks like, in any form.
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Text is fictional