How Do I Love Thee

If Hutch were a yellow flower
And I, a noisy bee
I’d sip his sweet nectar every day
Til he confessed his love for me

I would buzz and strut and rub against
His petals, smooth and soft
And through the days, come shine or rain
I’d land upon him oft

If Hutch were a flower, I would pluck each of his petals, one by one, while reciting each of the little things I love about him.

My partner probably doesn’t know I remember all these things, but I do.

This is what I would say:

• • How he gave that bum a dollar, just because

• • When he looked me in the eyes, offered me that smile of his, and clinked my wine glass

• • The way he leaned his head against my chest when I blocked the door, when he really wanted to punch his way out

• • How he doesn’t stay mad at me even when I go behind his back or accidentally destroy his stuff

• • The way he wiggled his tie at me when I was nervous at the inquest

• • When he called my mom to ask for my favorite recipe because he wanted to cheer me up

• • The devoted way he takes care of me whenever I’m sick or injured

• • How he leaned his head against mine in the back office of that restaurant

• • How he so conscientiously worked out the math to calculate how long the air would last, and then forgot whether he used a decimal or not

• • How he yelled at Dobey on the radio after I was poisoned, because he was upset

• • How, no matter how snarky he gets sometimes, he knows when he’s crossed a line, and humbles himself

• • How beautiful his eyes are, even when he’s not angry

• • How he stroked Christine’s hair so she wouldn’t feel bad after making that comment to Terry about vacations

• • The way he called me over to join him in the Saddle Bar, and raised his hand so I would see him

• • All the times he gets nervous whenever he’s on stage or put on the spot, even in the courtroom

• • Whenever he sings a song, no matter how many other people are in the room, it’s like he’s singing it just to me

• • The oh so poignant way he looked at me in my hospital bed, my hands and feet bound, knowing he had to leave me alone and vulnerable

• • The way he trusted me completely after they accused him, without even knowing my plan

• • How he reads to me from Shakespeare and always tries to welsh on a bet when he loses

• • When he giddily spun that nurse around in a whirl of happiness after he saw my eyes open

• • The way he talks to himself. The way he talks to his plants. The way he smiles.

• • All the little touches – the tummy pats, the way he squeezes my upper arm, his hand on the back of my neck, his head laying against mine whenever I’m down, when he put his hand on my knee at Huggy’s in full view of everyone

If Starsky were a red-striped flower
And I, a raucous bee
I’d buzz the loveliest, sweetest songs to him
Each day, unremittingly
And if he were a butterfly
Flutt’ring majestically through the air
I’d serenade sweet, honeyed melodies
As red-striped wings quivered in my hair

If Starsky were a butterfly, I would tell him just how beautiful I think he is. But instead, I insult him. He told me once that I was cute, and I told him I thought he wasn’t. I hope he knows I didn’t mean it. There are a lot of things I love about the guy, even if I don’t always acknowledge it. So many little things.

My partner probably doesn’t know I feel this way, but I do.

If I could tell him, this is what I would say:

• • I love your childlike wonder, optimism, and enthusiasm

• • I love how you protect me like my own personal guard dog

• • I love how you always open the door for me and let me walk through first

• • Even though I hate your car, I love the fact that YOU love it

• • And I love how you so desperately want me to love it as much as you do

• • All the times you flirt with me, even though you think it annoys me

• • How you met me at the Saddle Bar even though you hate country music

• • How you would go to the ends of the earth to find me, and wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in your way

• • How you brought me that Christmas tree so we could open presents together on Christmas morning

• • How you play with trains whenever we’re in a toy store, even though I pretend to be annoyed

• • How you’re always hungry, but lose your appetite so easily when you’re upset

• • How you tell me honestly when I’ve crossed a line

• • How you try to make us both feel better when the situation is dire

• • I love all the endearing nicknames you’ve come up with for me, like Big Blonde Blintz, especially that one

• • I love to watch you strut your stuff and dance around the room, even when you’re being annoying

• All the little touches – your hand on the back of my neck or around my waist, slapping my head, ruffling my hair, running your hands up and down my body, groping me everywhere, no personal space between us