Friday Confessions: My Man

This week I’m going to reveal something spectacularly sentimental. You’ve probably noticed that I much prefer being snarky. It looks better on me. But perhaps it’s time to offer up a little nugget of my softer side lest you start to think I hate puppies, which isn’t at all true. It’s kittens who scare the whoo-ha out of me.

So despite the many many laughs and jabs I’ve taken at that Husband of mine, you know the one I talk about here, here, and here, oh and here, and various other posts, well I confess that I do indeed love that crazy creature of a man, even if I can’t for the life of me understand why he would prefer I not talk about him on this here fabulous blog of mine. Who wouldn’t want all of their oddities, and peculiarities revealed to the entire blogosphere by some crazy redhead? It boggles the mind how some people can be so PRIVATE. Befuddles me completely (Befuddle is a great word. I encourage you to use it more often). Sometimes I think about if he were the one birthing babies in front of complete strangers, and whipping his boob out as needed to feed said babies, I wonder how private of a person he would be on the other side of that experience. 'Nuff said.

But I digress, yet again. I was telling you dear readers how the Husband is the sail to my boat, the cream to my cheese, the chewy to my Starbursts, the looney to my tune. And here are a few endearing reasons why:

*He tells me that my butt looks good in those jeans, even though I know full well there is barely a butt to be had back there.

*Once he rubbed ice all over his lips and got them nice and cold. Then he offered to kiss me so I could have an Edward-esque moment.

*He frequently goes out late at night to get me slushies, In-N-Out, or Wendy’s. He’s more apt to do this when I’m pregnant, or acting so hormonal that I might as well be pregnant. I love me a man who feeds me to shut me up. Seriously.

*I farted one time (once upon a time), and I know he pretended not to hear it.

*He was pretty much the only one who did the dishes for the first two years of our marriage.

* He could totally be a lifeguard, super slow-motion, Baywatch style. In other words, he's hot (he's going to kill me).

*When we were dating we went on a very long tandem bike ride. He had to pedal by himself most of the way back because my crotch hurt so bad (I don’t know how men do it). And he still thought marrying me was a wise decision. He is so wise.

*He was eager to have offspring with me, even though he knew full well the child would be 50% me and my crazy.

*He NEVER lets me win at Uno, which only makes me stronger, and ready for the big bad world out there. Not every Husband would be so concerned with such a thing. Sweet.

*He gives me back rubs even though he hates it to infinity and beyond.

*He reads my blog every single day. I know because he talks to me about the comments I received, new followers I’ve enticed, and when I’ve missed spelling or grammatical errors. Something every former editor loves to hear.

So for all those reasons and many more, I’m glad I can call this man the Husband, the Daddy, and the Cute Hugger of Statues (he's going to kill me again). That’s my kind of guy.

I'm totally getting a slushie tonight.