Warning: This post may make you puke.
When my husband sleeps, he looks like an angel. Not the multi-eyed, crazy Ezekiel angel, the commercial cherub-type angel. Blond hair and rosy cheeks and pursed lips.
But he is also, as he would put it, full of bilious vitriolics. He reads the Onion every day, which tells you a lot. It's this dualism that I love.
And speaking of bilious vitriolics (a phrase he really did use as we took a walk to get the mail the other day), he says funny things. Like when he broached the topic of the two of us, he didn't say, "hey baby, you wanna?" He said, "I think you and I should form some sort of mutually benefically alliance." Yes, mutually beneficial alliance. Exact Words.
Our alliance has been beneficial, I reflect upon ending our fifth year of marriage. My shoulders are rubbed every night. I mean it. Every Night. Tonight he made me couscous with raisins and dates. He watches horrible reality TV to make me happy.
He's one of the most servant-minded people I know. He's never unkind to me. He never raises his voice at me. He holds his tongue when I don't hold mine. He is an overflowing dam of patience. He is Christ to me.
He's kind to puppy dogs and robins. I love that about him. He can't stand to see weaker creatures in pain. That's my test of a man--how does he treat those weaker than him? Does he dominate (i.e. put the short guy in a headlock), or does he show compassion and look to their interests? The second is Mike.
(This despite the fact that he fully plans to one day gain world dominance in a self-led autocracy, in which case all males over 6 foot will be made a slave race. He's so complex.)
He does incredible impressions. He can mimic anyone perfectly. If I do an impression of someone (which I, regrettably, do quite often), he'll repeat it after me, but 478 times better. He's like my own live-in funny box.
In short, he's the smartest, funniest, kindest, bestest, most loving, most fun, most best person I know.