Attention To Detail

You can fly across the world and shiw up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she's going to remember the time you build the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn't meant to be taken in large mivements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you'll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on the some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you're not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you're not going to be able to blow everyone's mind every single night. You're not Romeo and/or Juliet. There's no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff.

It's all about the detail. That's what love is.

Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might ealk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that's just how it goes.

But she'll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.

She'll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.

She'll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.

She'll remember the small things, small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while linger from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smule. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won't remember your name. She'll judt remember your smile, and she'll smile. She won't know why. It's a base, gut reaction. But she'll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She'll remember your smile, and she'll smile.

And you know what? That's all really matters in the end.