For some reason I was thinking about my first date with Josh on my way to work this morning. It made me smile and I got lost in that memory until the person in the car behind me honked their horn and jarred me back to reality.

I've told this story a million times. After three dates we decided to move in together. After three weeks we got engaged. After three months we were married. Reading that now it sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, but it's working out so far.

I think a lot of young girls or young women think that getting married is the end of your love story. I can attest that it's not the case at all- but your love story might look a little different than you think.

What I was remembering this morning, when I was stopped at that red light, was that giddy butterflies in your stomach feeling. I was thinking about how over the course of the night he went from nervous to charming and back to nervous again- right before he kissed me in the street. I was remembering how awkward and adorable he was when he fumbled through some silly ruse, "I just need to grab something..." to get me up to his apartment. My cheeks get just as hot thinking about it now as they did that night, and I loved it.

But I also love when I open my sock drawer to find my socks matched and folded and then I notice all my laundry has been done. I love when I'm steeling myself to take the dogs out into the cold and learn that Josh got up early and already took them out. I love when I make something for dinner that Josh doesn't like and he tries so hard to pretend that he does. I love when I've had a bad day and I get home to find Josh in the kitchen making dinner waiting for me with a glass of wine.

I think that love and romance doesn't look anything like pop-culture teaches us to expect. And I love that too.