There's a question that some people ask me about my relationship with my husband: 'how do you truly know he will be faithful'?

I don't, I suppose.

But one of his values is about personal responsibility, and having seen the fallout of his parents marriage, he would never put me through that. Besides, I'm freaking awesome - why would he leave me for another women?

There reaches a point in a marriage where only a few things really matter. Everything else gets stripped away - the anxiety, the guessing, the fighting, the misunderstanding, the complications of early relationships where you're trying to find a way together.

In the early days, we'd fight over domestic duties, shouting about who had done what and what the other person should be doing. Now I find myself ignoring most things, and when it truly drives me nuts, I'll say something like: 'babe, I'm finding it pretty disrespectful that I've asked you to hang up the bathtowel and it's still on the floor' and he (mostly) apologises and does better. Me too. It doesn't even matter if it doesn't matter to me personally, but if it matters to him, it shouldn't be trouble for me. I don't think the house will be robbed if we leave for the shops for five minutes with the back door unlocked, but I respect that he grew up in London and has council estate anxieties hard wired into his DNA, so I'll snib the back door.

If it matters to him, it usually matters to me.

There's a point that marriage vows - the bit about 'in sickness and health' - start to make sense. It means that even if you're doing just fine, if they're not feeling well, you'll put everything aside to help them. Although I'm begging Jamie to go home for a few weeks to see family, he won't leave me because he knows I'm struggling. He'll sit on the edge of the bath with my crying and talk to me about how we'll manage things, even if I'm trying to push him away because I don't want the attention and am opting for irrational stoicism. I'm not as good as it as he is, the care I mean, but I try. I'll be gritting my teeth making him chicken soup for his soul when I'd rather be out surfing. But I'm practicing being better.

It blows my mind when he turns to me and calls me beautiful. I do think men's ability to judge beauty is directly dependent on their failing eyesight as they age. But I guess it's the same for me - the cute, sexy man I met when he was 29, is now a middle aged man with wrinkles and greying hair. But we still find each other attractive, and still reach for each other in the morning, snuggling in and feeling loved and blessed. I can't imagine a life without the physical relationship between us. I think we're just both addicted to the oxy it releases. When those long nights of passion fade, there's always naked snuggles.

When you start looking for a partner, you want a lot - money, sexiness, humour, devotion. Cards on Valentines Day, declarations of undying love, sacrifice, worship. Passionate sex, loyalty, perhaps being a great father or mother if family are important to you both.

But all of that shifts and changes in a partnership. The bullshit gets stripped away, the dressings, the pretense. The sheer effort it takes to be there for each other disappears until it's no effort at all. It's like the wood of you both has been whittled and sanded and become much more functional - not to say there's not beauty in that form, not at all - it's often a more beautiful piece than what you started with.

Sometimes all you want is for them to bring you a cup of tea.

This was written in response to the Minimalist community's QOTW: 'In relationships, the minimalist mindset asks: what truly matters between us when everything unnecessary falls away? Please add at least 3 original photos that were taken by you and have never been shared on the blockchain before that relate to your story.'