Valentine’s Day has a very particular aesthetic, doesn’t it?

Roses that cost more than they should.Restaurants packed with people proving something. Grand gestures wrapped in red cellophane.

For a long time I thought love was supposed to look like that:  big, loud, undeniable.

But the love my partner and I built never needed a spotlight.

Ours looks like him counting the turns of the stop tap because he knows I’ll worry. Like me reminding him not to shave too early because routines matter (until I change them, of course; the beautiful contradiction of AuDHD).

There are no violins playing here. Just the quiet clink of teaspoons and the hum of the kettle.

We don’t do extravagant.

We do a card chosen with care. A good meal at home. A bottle of something nice. And the deep comfort of sitting beside someone who understands the way your nervous system moves through the world.

It isn’t the kind of love that performs well on greeting cards.

It’s better than that.

It’s the kind that stays.

— Frost ❄️