Steve and I have been together for one year.
He has made me dozens of cups of tea, sweet, sweet tea.
He has caused me to call the police in a panic asking if there had been any road accidents between our houses (long story).
He has never, ever, tried to hurry me on the stairs.
He has absorbed a metric f*kload of my tears into the shoulders of assorted tshirts.
He has helped me to do any amount of things I could not otherwise do, from everyday stuff like getting in and out of the bath, to big events like my birthday party or visiting a theme park.
He gets on with my friends.
He has held my hair out of the way and made reassuring noises while I have been copiously vomiting.
He cheers me up when I feel rotten.
He has surprised me with any amount of little gifts and gestures, including unexpected Kinder Eggs with the morning cuppa and surprise meetings with friends I have not seen for a long time.
He stood next to me on my mother's wedding day.
He has, unasked, occasionally rushed home from work at lunchtime to get me some lunch and a drink when I have been too ill to get down the stairs.
He hasn't put spikes on my mobility scooter... yet.
He can happily spend time sitting in bed with me, both of us on laptops - and send me an MSN while doing so.
He's given me more cuddles and kisses than I can count.
He's caused me to write quite possibly the soppiest blog post ever, for which I apologise, but hopefully you understand why I wanted to.
He's rather wonderful, actually.
for the benefit of readers, buckets are located by all exits. Normal service will be resumed shortly. Thankyou.