Let me tell you about my husband. He’s around six foot, salt and pepper hair, wears rectangular, black-rimmed glasses, and has a near genious IQ. (Yes, we are talking Mensa here.)
He’s the kindest, most loving man I have ever met. I’ve always felt cherished in our marriage. He’s a great dad, provider, and all around great guy. He’s affectionate, loves his girls to pieces, enjoys hanging out with his family, and actually saved a binky (a pacifier) from each of our girls as a memento.
He’s generous, quick to give of his resources, and wants only the best for not only us but for his extended family as well. Part of the reason I fell in love with this guy was because of his big and wonderful family.
He’s patient, never loses his temper. In twenty years of marriage, I can honestly say I’ve only seen him get really mad a few times, and even then it’s hard to tell. He’s even-keeled, passionate about his interests, loves his work, and is constantly stretching his mind.
In a nutshell, the guy has it all together. He's not perfect, but he's pretty wonderful.
Why am I telling in you this?
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