5 Signs That You've Found A Partner For Life.

People fall in love; it's just what we do. Some of us do it over and over. A rush of adrenaline hits our brain, sending us into a whirling fervor of excitement. That sensation of eager, romantic anticipation can be highly addictive. And yet, sometimes... you will meet a person that you just know is the right one for life.

Here are five tried and tested signs that your partner is meant for a lifetime.

• They don't mind your farts. Let's face it. The biggest hurdle two people in a relationship must get over is farting. Everyone does it -- men, women, kids, hamsters... farting is just a part of life. If your partner can deal with your farts (and vice versa you can stomach theirs without running in terror), then you've got a keeper!
• They'll eat your leftover pudding. Sharing food is an especially big deal, at least in my opinion. If you can swallow a half-eaten cup of pudding your partner left you, then you're clearly long-term material. It takes a special bond to stomach the ingestion of food particles that have been in someone else's mouth.
• You prefer taking showers with them instead of alone. Don't get me wrong -- a dual-occupancy shower situation always offers the potential for a good time (wink-wink), but this isn't what I'm necessarily talking about. When you reach the point that you prefer taking a shower with your partner versus alone, that's when you know they're the one. Nothing like scrubbing your hair with used shampoo from your partner's head! Or, sharing a bar of soap and washing each other's back. Ah, that's true happiness!
• Going to sleep is harder without them. This is all a matter of personal comfort. If the person you're in a relationship with helps you fall asleep easier, that's the ultimate sign that they make you feel secure. Security in a relationship is obviously a good thing!
• They make you a better version of yourself. It's one thing for a partner to make you happy. For them to make you a better person, though? That's the reflection of a lifetime companion. The optimum relationship isn't just filled with joy and happiness. Your partner should make improvements to your personal being -- without them, you wouldn't be as good and decent. When your partner's mere presence makes you be a better person... well, that's what love is all about.

What Is Love?

Love is admitting you're afraid. There's always danger around the next corner. Ghosts from your past may return to hurt you. Insecurities can destroy your confidence. Broken promises can evaporate faith. Yet, love allows a safe space for us to admit what we're afraid of. Manifesting our deepest fears with words is how we conquer them. Bringing them from the darkness into the light gives us hope.

Love is cutting yourself some slack. We all have problems. Some of us are too fat or too skinny; balding or covered in freckles. Some of us have bad acne or a lisp. Some of us have a physical handicap or a major scar. Some of us wear our defects on the inside, never to be seen. Without explanation, love makes all of those frailties and shortcomings okay. In essence, love is the great equalizer.

Love is forgiving mistakes. Admitting that others will mess up is tough, but love allows it to be alright. Money will be lost. Cars will be wrecked. Jobs will be lost. If there's any certainty in life, it is that none of us will have a perfect track record by the end of the race. We've all screwed up, in one way or another. While you have to be willing to forgive others, more importantly... you have to be willing to forgive yourself.

Love is being vulnerable. Opening yourself up to another person is scary as hell. They'll know all of your secrets and inadequacies. This person could damage you in the worst way possible, with no chance of ever fixing it. That's the funny thing about loving someone. It's like being in a relationship with your worst enemy. Every day, you wake up to the possibility of having your heart broken.

Love is courage. Considering how vulnerable love makes us, choosing to care for someone requires fearlessness. As time goes by, an unspoken promise is fulfilled. By choosing to open this door, you're letting everything wonderful and disastrous in this universe simultaneously into your heart. Choosing love is a profound statement of bravery -- I'd rather risk eternal sorrow than go through life without you.

Thanks For Eleven Great Years!

We snapped this photo during our third date on the

Virginia Beach Boardwalk -- August, 2004.

Wow... eleven long years. Tonight marks the eleventh anniversary of my first date with Crystal, the absolute joy of my life -- my partner in crime, my better half, my boo (inside joke)! We'd spoken all throughout the Summer of 2004 via text messages, phone calls and the internet before ever actually getting around to going on a date. Thanks to my father, I was nearly late to our first date on Saturday, August 7, 2004 -- he suddenly had a giant pile of rocks for me to shovel (I can't make this stuff up, folks) just moments before I was about to leave home. I don't think I've ever worked a shovel so fast in my life, either before or since.

Thankfully, Crystal was more than understanding and waited for me to show up. We watched The Village and heckled the theater audience because the plot was so predictable. We spent hours on end just talking, each too nervous to actually touch the other one. Finally, at 10:20 PM that night, you pulled me close. Our eyes locked and you gave me this grin... that was our first kiss.

At the beach in 2005.

These past eleven years have been quite the journey. What started out as two innocent kids on a date turned into more than I could have ever imagined. A full decade later, we own a home, have two wacky dogs and don't have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck. We're able to travel and move where we want, when we want. I'm thankful for all that we've worked for and accomplished. Though, I'm probably most thankful for you sticking by me in what was certainly the toughest period of my life. Only in the past few years have I really come into my own as a man. I've been able to put a lot of anger and sadness behind me. I have you to thank for that, Crystal. You made possible a loving relationship that allowed me to heal, even when I wasn't a very nice person to be around.

Taking silly pictures in our apartment in 2006.

The first year of our relationship was great -- the honeymoon phase as many folks call it. The next few years after that weren't so hot -- you came to understand how closed off and emotionally guarded I was. I would lie and hide things about myself from you. I wasn't always the most committed man, either. You came to understand how nutty my family can be. And yet, you hung in there. The years after our move to North Carolina were filled with grief and fury -- my internal strife and depression nearly drove me insane. But there you were, still fighting the good fight and supporting me. You were there through the death of my mother and my family being torn apart. You were there when my sister needed someone to depend upon. You were there when I finally decided to take better care of myself, both mentally and physically. Some days were good; some were bad. Living with me was like riding a roller coaster without a seat-belt. I guess spending all those years with horses taught you how to rope a wild beast.

You were there, over and over and over again.

Christmas of 2012 -- I was at my heaviest weight and about to make a change in my life thanks to you.

The past couple of years have been our best, in my opinion. I finally got my head screwed on straight and much of the anger in my heart defeated. Crystal, you've been there in both good times and bad, for better or worse.

When I had no place to lay my head, you gave me a bed to rest on.

When I had no one to call my friend, you gave me your hand to hold.

When I needed someone to help me get better, you were there to patch up my wounds.

Off for a hike in 2013.

Words simply can not express how much you've done for me, Crystal. All I can say, with every cell in my body, is thank you for loving me -- especially during the years when I wasn't so lovable. I was a miserable monster for the bulk of my 20's, but somehow you found a way to love me. It baffles me, honestly... but it's not something for me to worry about anymore. The finest way to repay your love and kindness is to be the best man I can be, thereby loving you more completely in return.

Crystal, I love you. You're the funniest person I know. You're wise beyond your years. You know how to lead and you've never, ever been a follower. You're stunning and graceful in more ways than I can relate. You are the best of humanity all rolled into one sublime package. I hope the next eleven years are filled with more success, happiness and peace for the both of us. You deserve it for loving a difficult man like me. We've stuck together through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Without you, I am but a hollow ghost left to wander this world. To be honest, for all that you've done for me, I think it's about time I started calling you my wife. Considering we eloped in 2008, it's long overdue anyway.

I love ya, pretty lady.

P.S. -- I know you're going to yell at me for sharing photos of us, but hush. You're gorgeous and I'm proud of us. ;-)

Where Did Cuddling Come From?

I've got some highly valued cuddling time scheduled with a certain special someone, so my article tonight will be brief.

Where did the concept of cuddling come from?

The English word cuddle arose during the sixteenth century to describe the act of a mother affectionately snuggling their baby. Snuggling itself is a word that evolved from snug, which was a native nautical sailing term. A snug ship was one that had no loose ropes or objects to roll around its deck. Over the course of the next few centuries, cuddle expanded to mean holding your baby or your intimate partner (which also reflects upon the fluid nature of the word baby as well).

So... keep that in mind the next time you're cuddling. In reality, you're just making sure your loved one doesn't have any loose ropes or objects moving around on their deck!  

400 Miles.

Today has been a busy day for me. I've logged nearly four-hundred miles today round trip, but it was worth it. James, Julie, Brandon, Niki, Josh -- it was absolutely fantastic to see you. I hope we can all be together again in a few weeks for Christmas.

I don't have much to say this evening because I just got home and I'm quite tired, but I will relay a few thoughts that occurred to me while I was driving. I may expand on these ideas later in the week.

• Steel Guitars produce some of the most beautiful music and they're not nearly used enough in modern recordings.
• Driving down back country roads and seeing Christmas lights on homes is very comforting.
• I discovered a lot of great independent musicians in 2014, even though most modern music is over-processed garbage.
• Dreams are important. Don't ever ignore what your dreams are telling you.
• Always give love a chance, no matter what.

And now, I'll leave you with a forgotten ballad classic (and one of my personal favorites) from 1989. Here's Giant, with "I'll See You In My Dreams".

Another Story Hidden From View.

While browsing through the book section of a local thrift store, I happened upon a copy of Moliere's masterful Seventeenth Century comedy "The Misanthrope". I've wanted a copy for quite a while because I rather enjoy this farce. Obviously, I was overjoyed.

Sure, I could buy a new copy from Amazon or Barnes & Noble, but what fun would that be?

Anyway, upon bringing the book home, I discovered that within it's pages was another story hidden from view. Not one of laughter or whimsical satire, but of a journey by someone whom was in love.

A few pages deep, I found this boarding pass.

It seems the previous owner of this book flew on Air Canada. Their last name was Brown and they went from Vancouver to Calgary. No date was provided, but I could say within reasonable certainty that it was no older than five or six years. On the back, more clues were to be found.

The first ticket appears to be linked to Calgary Transit, which is a bus and rail service. Finally, I had a date of travel! Looks like they arrived in Calgary and traveled further on June 5, 2009 (Canadians and the rest of the world typically reverse their date format from the way Americans do). We know the traveler was an adult based upon the price of the ticket.  There's another ticket related to Air Canada as well, which seems to confirm that the trip took place in June of 2009. The Brown name is also repeated again.

The plot thickens from this point. We're obviously dealing with a fan of poetry here.

About halfway through the book, I found a transcription of Amy Lowell's "The Taxi". Lowell is a Pulitzer Prize winning poet whom broke against traditional expectations of women during the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Century. Her works are wrought with love and fiery passion. As evidenced by the poem itself, it speaks to leaving behind a loved one and how much it can hurt the soul. Based upon the handwriting, we can tell that the transcriber was a woman. The neat vertical strokes indicate the writer was logical and a thinker. The shortness of the letters reflects a person whom is introspective and shy. Being that it was printed and not written in cursive, we know the writer has a tendency to be patient, but also versatile.

But we're not done yet.

Towards the end of the book, one final poem was found.

The final poem is "I Carry Your Heart With Me" by E.E. Cummings. Known by readers of poetry the world over, Cummings is considered a champion of Twentieth Century literature. His works are known far and wide. This poem is famous for being used at weddings -- which makes sense considering the content. Read it for yourself and see. If you were to look love poem up in a dictionary, you may just see "I Carry Your Heart With Me". Obviously, our transcriber Brown is in deep love with someone, though we know not who.

I almost resigned myself to never knowing the end of the story, until I flipped the previous poem over. On the back, encircled in a heart, was the name Gregory Brown.

Ah-hah! So the target of our love is Gregory Brown. We know our traveler was also a Brown, so it must have been Gregory's wife! Alas, her name is lost to time.

I'm inclined to believe that Gregory Brown is from Vancouver, British Columbia. His wife took a trip away from him, but surely experienced much heartache in doing so. For someone to write such sweet, passionate musings and carry them in their book as a reminder, that bond must have been very strong. Why did Mrs. Brown travel to Calgary? Did she come back? Much less, how did this book wind up in North Carolina? That's quite a journey from Canada to here.

I'm always thankful to find a piece of the previous owner in a used book. It tells me that the book I'm taking home had a life before me. These little pieces tell a bigger story, one that you and I are now a part of.

Gregory Brown, if you're out there... you're a lucky man. I hope your love with this mysterious woman has only grown stronger with time.

Perfect love.

After putting in a few late night hours packing packages for my business customers this evening, I found myself exhausted. My eyes had that slight tingle that comes from staring at a computer monitor after a few too many hours.

I have burned the midnight oil this evening.

Just a short while ago, I leaned back in my office chair to rest my eyes. Almost instantly, my eyes were closed. I was calm for a short moment... calmer than I've experienced in a long time. My mind began to wander, much like a moth trying to find an ounce of sunshine in a light bulb.

Random thoughts... Reality. Compassion. Humility. Honor.

A few minutes passed. As I sat forward and opened my eyes, I couldn't help but contemplate the love that not all of us encounter. Not just any old love -- the type shared between friends, or the kind proclaimed by a young child about their favorite flavor of ice cream. I mean real love.

True, undeniable, inconceivable, illogical, completely selfless love.

There are indeed plenty of 'fish in the sea', as the old saying goes. Undeniably, we can almost certainly find someone that will share even a brief intimate moment with us. Someone whom will listen to us... share dinner with us... embrace us. While not temporary, these interludes of human compassion at the very least remind us that we are alive. Accordingly, I wouldn't dare level these moments as illicit or petty. The world is a harsh and uncaring realm of existence; any moment of happiness must be cherished and respected. Indeed -- if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.

Yet, I want to attest to the power of an even higher degree of love. Such a love that is without conditions but loaded with consequences. Love that will change how you look at the world; how you look at yourself. Love that will make you dive into an ocean with no hope of rescue. Love that will drive you into a burning building, just so your better half won't have to die alone. Love that will inflict a wound so deep, that you may never love again.

Human beings may not be monogamous by nature, but a few of us are damn lucky enough to meet the one person that turns our entire world upside down. Red will change to blue. North will flip to south. Sweet will taste salty and cold will sizzle hot. A loving bond so unique, so perfect... should the two lovers be separated, the entire universe shall be torn asunder.

Yes... THAT kind of love.

We see a love of this caliber often on television or in movies. We sing songs about meeting the one. We write books... nay entire series of novels about eternal love. In every possible creative output humanity has managed to invent, we always elevate the concept of perfect love.

Hemingway did it. So did Van Gogh. Beethoven? Yep, he did as well. Springsteen has done it (and still is). Cusack gushed perfect love as the bumbling Lloyd Dobler. Grant and Hepburn, too.

Perfect love surrounds us. We glide through clouds of wishful wanting, often not evening knowing it. Could these clouds be so thick that we fail to see the love of our life fly by? Are we too caught up in the idea of perfect love that we fail to see it right before our eyes? Maybe yes... maybe no. Who is to say?

I approach the art of perfect love from a different perspective, in such a way that connects to the previously mentioned idea of 'plenty of fish'. Maybe... just maybe... a perfect love isn't inherently natural. As with anything, perfection doesn't exist in an objective sense. Two people, both filled with faults and self-loathing, trust issues and anger; they can create a bond of love that's perfect for them and them alone. But, these two people must be willing to work at it. Love has so much more importance when we work to make it important. A lasting relationship takes effort and dedication. Add to that heaps of trial and error.

Most importantly, loves requires sacrifice. We must not let fear deter us from sacrificing our own pride to the one we love. Once we've conquered the fear of humility, all other agents of destruction pale in comparison. Taking a bullet is but a small price to pay when compared to surrendering your own self-importance for the sake of your relationship. Fear is powerful; I don't foolishly disregard it. To be afraid is perfectly natural. Having the courage to admit you're afraid? That's the hard part. How appropriate that your lover, your best friend, your companion is there to help you along?

Fear is the darkness we follow love into, but never do we enter that darkness alone.

The holidays.

As much as I don't want to admit it, I'll be glad when Christmas is over.

The holidays always stir up awkward and complicated feelings for me. Combine that with the guilt-laden practice of exchanging gifts and the stress of shopping... well, you've got a perfect storm of aggravation.

I'm going to be honest with you -- I've come to despise the gift aspect of Christmas. I don't expect people to give me gifts and I don't want to spend endless hours buying them for others. The disgusting stench of commercialism has completely disintegrated my ideal of the holiday.

What do I envision as the perfect Christmas?

Greetings Cards sent to loved ones. Homes and businesses dressed in lights and ribbons. Uproarious feasts filled with great food and merriment. Stories regaled around a fire. Egg Nog and warm cups of spiced tea. Staying up late to watch It's a Wonderful Life by the colorful glow of the Christmas tree. Kissing your sweetheart. Love.

The gift-giving never really enters into my equation. Am I ok with gifts? Yes, of course. We should all feel compelled to give tokens of gratitude to our family and friends. These gifts should be meaningful and have purpose. They should speak of the compassion and thankfulness deep inside our hearts. Instead, our modern Christmas is filled with frenzied sales at the local department store and mall. "SALE SALE SALE" they scream at us. "BUY NOW, SUPPLIES LIMITED" we're convinced of. Countless droves of gift-givers stand in endless lines for discounted televisions and game consoles. Average human beings are reduced to savages. We lose our sense of companionship, our sense of dignity. These things we spend inflated amounts of time and money on are not gifts. They're just possessions.

In our modern times, gifts have lost their sense of purpose. Instead, they're mechanisms by which we try to impress each another. They are badges of honor, stating "I gave this gift, look at me! I'm somebody special!"

If you're in my circle of family and friends, I don't want you to give me anything. What do I want?

Nothing. Just be yourself. Pick up the phone every once in a while. Write me a letter. Let's go watch a movie. Enjoy a cup of tea with me.

And, if you have a gift you really want to give me, that's all the better. I probably want to give you a gift, too. Not a possession, but an actual gift. Gifts come in all shapes and sizes -- a book with a personal story behind it, an old clock, a letter, a bottle of fine Scotch, a hug. These things are drenched with nostalgia, wonder and love.

As I said, the holidays are a difficult time for me. I think about the Christmases that have come before. Assuredly, I miss the loved ones I can no longer see. Often times, my mind wanders to Christmas at my maternal grandparents' home. Oh, how I long for the holidays there -- the record player spinning old Christmas tunes, the large silver bells hanging over the mirror in the living room, the whimsical old ornaments on the Christmas tree. I'd watch all the great holiday programs Grandpa had recorded on his VCR. Even now, I can remember the smell of all those tapes. Cousin Alex... I don't know how many times I watched a home movie of you when you were young. I wish I knew what happened to that tape. You were a marvelous little baby!

Christmas just isn't the same.

There's no Christmas tree in my home. No lights. No decorations.

Really - I'm not kidding.

I've lost my sense of celebration at the holidays. In it's place is the aforementioned aggravation. The worst part is that I want to celebrate Christmas. I love to send cards to friends and family. I take great joy in making someone else feel happy during this time of year. Yet, when it comes to rejoicing in the delight of the season in my own heart, I just can't seem to find the motivation.

The Ghost of Christmas Past has come and gone. Where is the Ghost of Christmas Present?