my guy

My guy.

When all I want to eat is a giant plate of pasta specifically from a no-frills kinda place - the type that has paper placemats, the salad and bread comes included with the entree, and beer comes in pitchers - he waits patiently while I google and google until I find such a place.

He likes to hang out in diners that primarily cater to senior citizens and trashy teenagers and spell the word "coffee" with the letter k.

He doesn't bat an eyelash when I come stomping up the stairs yelling about how the parking nazi who lives across the street may or may not find his tires slashed upon the day we move. Instead he just laughs. And then helps me devise a plan where we purposely park both our cars in front of said parking nazi's house.

He makes up songs for me, dances on his way to the shower, kisses me goodbye every day before work and kisses me goodnight every night at bedtime.

All in all, my guy is pretty perfect for me.