Saint Dirty Face

Nobody prepares you for what romance looks like after you’ve been together long enough.

When you’re young, romance is candlelight.

Hotel rooms.

Making out in the kitchen because dinner can wait.

You imagine marriage will be falling asleep wrapped around the person you love.

And sometimes it is.

Other times…

your wife passes out by 9 PM, you crawl into bed later hoping for a little affection, and the only thing you have to kiss is her restless legs syndrome.

Because apparently her legs have somewhere to fucking be.

You try to cuddle her.

Kick.

Move closer.

Twitch.

Put your arm around her.

DOUBLE KICK.

At some point you realize you’re not spooning your wife anymore.

You’re trying to restrain a raccoon in a sleeping bag.

And that’s marriage after 40.

Sometimes romance isn’t champagne, rose petals, and sex until sunrise.

Sometimes romance is trying to cuddle your wife while her legs fight invisible bees.

And you know what?

You still move closer.

Because underneath the snoring, the twitching, the blankets somebody stole, the thermostat negotiations, and the occasional heel directly into your shin…

that’s still your person.

The one you chose.

The one you built a life with.

The one you’d still kiss in the kitchen on a random Tuesday.

Assuming she’s awake past nine.

And the invisible bees give you five goddamn minutes.

SAINT DIRTY FACE™ AFTER DARK

Love gets older.

It also gets fucking hilarious.

NOW YOU KNOW.