I waited for it. I could have settled for less. But I waited. And it was worth it.
He is the best. God’s best. For me.
I often wonder if people really understood how tough marriage can be, would they go through with it? So many quit just before it gets good. There is a sweet certain something about having weathered something fierce together that tightens the marital bond. And believe me, there have been moments. Curve balls come. Finances get tight. Sleepless nights ensue. But he is there. And he loves me. And he models His greater love for me.
And it works.
It’s our favorite time of year. And time to celebrate something special. It’s our date-a-versary.
And it’s time he had a name. Of course, he has a given name, but as of yet, in the blogosphere he has only been known “Sweet Hubby” or “Dear “Hubby” or any other cheesy sort of moniker I can conjure up at the given moment. Of course, my girls are known as Peanut, Ladybug, and Lovey… but hubby? I have no idea. I have been thinking on this for some time and continually draw a blank.
Naturally, there are the ridiculously sweet sort of names such as Honey Buns, Pookie Bear, and
Love Muffin, but I don’t think I want to go there.
He is unwaveringly devoted to technology and all things computer-related, but “Mr. Roboto” doesn’t seem to jive with me.
He is hopelessly analytical, but “Anal” doesn’t seem the best way to go here, either.
He is enthusiastically drawn to all things outdoors. He is a man in every sense of the word. Tall, strapping, handsome, and makes-me-weak-at-the-knee rugged. Perhaps, that would suit him best: The Man.
My dearest, you are heretofore known as “The Man.” As if you needed any confirmation.
(See Creature Comforts)
Love & Coffee.