I believe in a thing called love. I really do. I’m a romantic. I believe some people are meant to be together.  Like Ross and Rachel.  From the moment he brought her the cameo broach, I spent the next ten years rooting for them to have a happy ending.

There are so many things that define love. A gift, a look, a romantic gesture.  I’m a realist and life’s not like the movies.  I’m also not rich so big Kanye style gestures are not possible or practical.  Where the hell would I put 10,000 roses?  Over the course of a relationship there are many ‘love’ defining moments.  My husband and I have been together for 20 years, 8 of which we have been married.  We are what they call childhood sweethearts.  We have our ups and downs like any couple and we work hard at our relationship. It’s not all hearts and flowers and I don’t believe anyone who says their relationship is.  Believe me there are times I want to throttle my true love.  I mean he never wipes the crumbs after making a sandwich.

I have however had many precious moments were you stop and take stock and realise how lucky you are, how in love you are, how loved you are.  Simple things like my husband presenting me with a chocolate bar after a shitty day, a simple look at a crowded party to make sure I am ok, or watching him playing with our children. Little things that make you smile, they make you happy, they keep the love alive.

My latest ‘love’ defining moment in our relationship was rather unexpected. It was early morning and my husband looked at me and said ‘I’ve got a semi’.  Not the most romantic of statements.  It’s hardly a Shakespearian profession of love.   But it was love defining for me because it came at an unexpected time.  I was sitting in bed expressing milk for our three week old son.  Said son was sleeping in his crib and our 4 year old son was playing in his bedroom.  I was functioning on about three hours sleep, average that over the last three weeks and you will appreciate the size of the bags under my eyes.  Bed head would be an understatement, more like hair that should have been washed two days ago and had been caught in the rain the day before. My body 3 weeks after having a baby was not in it’s best shape.  I was certainly not feeling very attractive.  But despite all of this, the fact that after 20 years my husband can look at me, breast pump in hand and still be attracted me.  That’s true love.  That’s my lobster.




Claire Kirby

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