Meet the Husband

Today is my husband Matthew’s birthday!  This post is in his honor.

Since the birthday boy is far too modest to ever speak highly of himself, I’m going to brag a little on his behalf, because bragging is what I do best (if I do say so myself).   Meet my husband:

Years ago, I read an excerpt from a book that has stuck with me, because it perfectly describes one of my husband’s best qualities: a capable but gentle presence.  I’m sure I’ll butcher it, but it went something like this:  You get the feeling that if you were with him and you were taken hostage by attackers with red bandanas, you would be among the few to escape.  And that while you were waiting to escape, you would somehow be made comfortable.  

I don’t mean that in a damsel-in-distress way, either.  I’ve heard grown men remark on Matthew’s shrewd, calm, and impressive intelligence.

My husband also has a high tolerance for an addictive, potent, and sometimes toxic substance:  me.  Not only is he is adept at speaking my language (When I ask him to “Change the thing on that thing so I can add it to my thing,” he responds with a “sure,” and does exactly what I was thinking), he possesses the rare quality that only a few men have: the ability to stay silent when I order the chicken salad instead of a hamburger and fries, and then proceed to eat half of his meal.

Other husband factoids:

He is freakishly proficient at parking any car, in any space.

He makes a great party date.

He brings out the best in me.

…and I would be, literally and figuratively, lost without him.

Happy Birthday, Babe.  Let’s celebrate!