A long awaited fantasy has crept delightfully into existence. A slow but sweet cultivation of age, wisdom, depth and such fine debonair looks. I have had the highest honour of a daily watch through his last decade and now I have the satisfaction, the thrill, the happy pull up-wards on the sides of my lips, I am married to a thirty-year old. Fine with age, a perfect gentleman. As I have had an intimate view into this mans heart, thoughts; actions I have waited and expectantly known this will be his decade! He was born to be thirty!

I am his love, he choose me to be part of his decades, my heart flutters every time I think he is thirty…and I get to kiss him…ahhh I get to kiss a thirty-year-old, is that not so hot?

The 'store bought' cake and thirty kisses from his gals!



He was a gentlemann in action today, as he gave any sort of birthday hype over to spending the night hours with his ‘FALSE’ labouring wife only to have her announce hours into the walking, timing, waiting that everything…just stopped! Instead of lingering over a breakfast he assisted me while I got my iron ‘espresso’ from the local hospital coffee shop. And on top of that entire sweet fuss he reassured me he would be perfectly fine with a birthday lunch at a cafe and a store bought cake. And then he took me home and put me for a nap. What a guy!



Happy Birthday my love!