I already know that I love her, so I do my best to show her that every day of the year. If I had to wait till some random day in February to tell her how wobbly she makes my knees go...well, I'd probably spend 364 days switching my weight from foot to foot in a corner somewhere, slowly perfecting syllable after syllable of overly earnest romantic poetry.
As tempting as it is to have the one monumental day, all it would most likely lead to is a few minutes of stammering as I blank on all the painstakingly honed verse followed by the most epic case of spontaneous ejaculation this side of 8th grade. So, clearly, it's in both our interests to spread the sex liberally over the entire calendar.
As for the poetry, let me just say that the level of conversation I have with my lovely woman is more intelligent, lively, and satisfying than anything I could come up with on my own.
So, Happy 365th Day! Don't forget to enjoy the other 364 too! (And save something special for that 0.24219th most people forget about!)
And to my dearest, I love you very, very much.
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