My adoration for Disney World is no secret. B is less enthusiastic. In fact, when I first talked about it, he said he'd never been (the real tragedy here was that he HAD, he just didn't remember it). Which is why his willingness to spend his tax return on a trip to Disney with me last year meant so much. In retrospect we probably should've been saving that money, but our relationship was new and I knew that I wanted to share the utopia that is Disney World with my significant other.
It was the greatest week ever, needless to say. We ate delicious food, wandered the World, and I showed B all the little Disney touches that make a trip there so magical. I even got B to meet Mickey and Pluto, though he wouldn't touch them, resulting in an awkward photo where I am in a Mickey-Pluto love sandwich and B is standing off to the side. I'm so very ready to go back, though we can't responsibly afford it so that won't be happening any time soon. What the trip really meant to me though was B's willingness to do something so totally for me, just because he knew it would make me happy (and boy did it). And that, my friends, is love.