McGoogle loves Nutter even in the mornings when she has gray encrustations in the corners of her eyes. He loves her even when she emanates a “straight-from-the-docks” aroma on those not so fresh days. He even still loves her after she had to get her stomach pumped of an entire football team’s love yogurt.
And Nutter, she loves McGoogle too. Maybe not his breath after a night of Snakebites and cigars with the union guys. Maybe not the way he can make the duvet rise and billow with the sheer force of his flatulence. And maybe Nutter doesn’t so much love the way his visage can morph from rugged lumberjack into that of a convicted molestor with the simple act of shaving*. But McGoogle, damn if he doesn’t make the best crepes with fresh strawberries and cream on her birthday, and God love him for not beating her with a belt when she wrecks the car swerving to miss a caterpillar.
That’s love, for real.
* This part was inspired by Henry, who makes me feel sad and also worried for small children every time he shaves. Some men should not be bare-faced! Happy new year to me, I guess.