He adores me, for no reason that I can understand.
He puts up with all of my shit, and still does as much as he can to take care of me.
He does all the stuff I don't want to do, like load the dishwasher and make phone calls.
What it all boils down to is two deciding factors:
(1) I'm too damned scared to be on my own, and
(2) I would feel too guilty if I kicked him to the curb because of his health, both physical and emotional.
I know. You've heard it all before. It's just an ongoing cycle of lather, rinse, repeat, lather, rinse, repeat...