If he puts up with an extra week of surly-by-day-silent-by-night PMS, if he hears you blow your nose loudly, noisily, disgustingly for two days straight, if he runs out in the middle of the night to get you tissue paper, if he runs his fingers through your hair while you sweat out a fever, if he’s okay with you suddenly sneezing in the middle of a kiss and still agrees to stand at the steps of the Gateway of India with you on a cold morning, despite you refusing to have breakfast with him after, just because you think it’s a cool idea to catch a sunrise through smog, and if at the end of it all he assures you he had a fantastic time, then yes, babe, he’s a keeper.
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