a ponderism while home sick

I have yet to figure out how, when feeling my utter worst, and looking like I've been stuffed in the washing machine and pulled out after the spin cycle, a simple hug and compliment from Brad can repair my mood and make me feel beautiful again. I guess what I mean is, why is the only opinion that really matters (other than one's own of course) is the one of the person who means the most to you? Why is it that all the people in the world can tell a person they look lovely in that new sweater, but it doesn't really mean anything until the one you're in love with says it to you? Maybe it has something to do with knowing that person has seen you in your most vulnerable? Or maybe it's because the sentiment goes both ways? Well, whatever the reason, I'm greatful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and snivle into some toilet-tissue and huddle in blankets while watching cheesy romantic comedies.