Sometimes I will grab my husband, usually by the head, mash up his cheeks in my hands and say,
“Your face. Your STUPID face. I LOVE YOUR FACE. I’m … I’m gonna eat your face because I LOVE IT SO MUCH.”
I assume that all couples who have been together for more than a decade behave this way, expressing their affection through threats of cannibalism.
The thing is, though, I really do adore his face, every (tiny) crease and freckle and even the errant chicken pox scar on his forehead (that is almost, but not quite, a mirror reflection of one I have). To quote one of my favorite movies, “It’s … it’s a good face.”