Pom in Oz with Derek Goforth: Valentine’s Day will pass, but real love is worth all the ups and downs

Valentine’s Day has a funny way of shrinking love down to its most marketable form. Flowers that wilt by Wednesday. Chocolates gone by Tuesday. A card that sounds nice but says very little. None of it is bad, but none of it is the point. Real love does not look much like the ads. I have learned most of what I know about love by watching one woman live it quietly, every day. My wife would never describe herself as remarkable, which is usually how you can tell someone is. She does not seek attention or applause. She just gets on with what needs doing and somehow keeps everything moving while making it look effortless. She is practical in the way that actually matters. The shopping gets done. The kids get where they need to be. Life stays on the rails even when the road is rough. None of that earns compliments, but it earns stability and stability is underrated. She is patient, especially with me, which already puts her in rare company. She tolerates my habits, my half-finished ideas and my confidence right up until the moment the facts intervene. She rolls her eyes, but she stays. That matters more than grand gestures ever could. I do not see her as someone who simply shares my life. I see her as my other half, and without doubt the better part of me. Where I am impulsive, she is steady. Where I rush, she slows things down. Where I can get carried away with ideas, she grounds them in reality. She does not dim me or hold me back. She sharpens me. An experience does not seem real, unless its shared with her. Happiness and joy are not truly present unless it’s shared with her. She sees things I miss. She hears what is not being said. She understands the difference between a real problem and background noise. That quiet wisdom has saved more arguments and more poor decisions than I will ever admit out loud. There is comfort in being known this well. In having someone who understands your weaknesses and chooses you anyway. She does not try to change who I am. She helps me become who I should be. My time with her is precious and sadly limited alongside the hustle and bustle of life — but when we are in each other’s presence it is my therapy, it’s my zen, it’s the core of my mental health. Real love is not constant agreement or permanent excitement. It is respect when you disagree. It is forgiveness for small irritations because the bigger picture matters more. It is work, often unseen, done when nobody is watching. Showing up tired. Showing up stressed. Showing up anyway. It also includes laughter. The familiar kind that comes from shared history and inside jokes, and knowing exactly how far you can push before crossing a line. Love without humour does not last long. She is gorgeous, perhaps even more so than when I met here more than 20 years ago, she is the definition of classical beauty. That beauty goes all the way to her core. I still double-take in moments when I am with her, the near shock I feel when I realise that she not only chose me, but has stayed with me through my thick and thin. Valentine’s Day will pass. The cards will be binned and the flowers forgotten. What remains is the daily choice. Loyalty. Consistency. Responsibility. The decision to keep building something together even when it would be easier not to. That is what real love looks like. Unflashy. Imperfect. Earned. And if I am honest, it is a love that has made me better simply by being part of it. Derek Goforth is an expat and father of three living and working in Geraldton