Spoil Me With Your Love, Not Your Money
If you’re going to spoil me, spoil me with your love. Shower me with kisses and hugs, reach for my hand when we’re walking in public, stop in the middle of the sidewalk just to plant a peck on my cheek.
When we’re mid-argument, stop yelling and pull my body to yours, hold me until I stop fighting, and kiss your apology onto my stubborn lips. If it’s late at night and you wake, roll over and hold me. If I’m crying, rub your nose eskimo-style with mine until I laugh and forget what it feels like to be sad. If it’s early morning and my eyes are barely open, brush the hair back from my face and guide my tired head to your shoulder to rest.
See, I don’t need much—a hand to hold, a heart to treasure, a mind to learn, a body to pull close to mine, and memories to share. I don’t need much to feel spoiled by you.
So please, spoil me with your love, not your money.
I don’t need extravagant trips and expensive jewelry. I don’t need cars and three-course meals and the latest and greatest gadgets. I don’t need material things and lavish gifts just to feel loved by you.
Those things are just that—things—and they’ll never make me as happy as you giving me your heart and holding my heart safe in your hands.
Spoil me with your love. Take me on the simplest of adventures, the ones that don’t cost a dime, but teach me about who you are. Take me to your favorite picnic spot, the best star-gazing hill, the park where you used to play as a kid. Buy me my favorite candy, just to show that you pay attention to the little things. Write me mini love notes, just to remind me that I’m on your mind.
Listen to the things I say, cook one of my favorite meals after I’ve had a hard day, make me laugh when my smile feels tired. See, the thing is, I want the things money can’t buy—your attention, your patience, your affection, your loyalty, your joy.
I want you to give me the things that don’t have a price tag, the things that show your heart, rather than what’s in your wallet.
Kiss me. Talk to me. Make memories with me.
I want things that I’ll remember—not physical things, but moments. I want laughter, forever engrained in my head. I want memories I can take pictures of, to capture the places we’ve been and the conversations we’ve had. I want to remember who we are, not because of a material thing I wear or show off, but because the memories float around us, and we’re always making more.
Spoil me with your love. Treat me with respect and kindness, show me that I matter to you and shower me with your attention and time.
I don’t need your paychecks; I need your heart.
And I want you to have mine.