The Man is a special guy, and he’s mine, all mine.  Here’s why I’m lucky.

The Man is kind.  He will help out the bartenders at his favorite restaurant when they are understaffed.  He pulled over once, after we witnessed a rollover accident in traffic, and got out to see if anyone needed any help.  He does stuff like this all the time.  He is friendly, and will strike up conversation with anyone, anywhere.  I was on the phone with him the other day when he was driving past some workers putting in a new power pole.  He slowed down, rolled down his window, and started up a conversation with them.  He is amazed when he comes North and people avert their gaze and avoid talking to each other.  Doesn’t like it one bit.  He’s like a fish out of water up here.

The Man communicates.  He’s honest, and we never run out of things to say to each other.  We save up bits of our day to share with each other in our nightly phone call, and are still capable of talking for hours on end, even after almost three years.  But we are both perfectly content to just be, when we are together, too.  Talking is not a prerequisite for communication between the two of us.

The Man makes me laugh.  And sometimes his jokes are incredibly corny, but after almost three years, they still make me giggle, and he really does have an amazing sense of humor.  I love to make him laugh, too – he has a deep chuckle that escapes when I have surprised him with something funny.

The Man has an amazing work ethic, and doesn’t stop until the job is done right.  I have an incredible amount of respect for him, and for being such an honest, hard-working man.

The Man is very sensitive to my feelings.  He reads me like a book, knowing when I’m upset, sometimes before I even do.  He apologizes when necessary (still getting used to a man that apologizes!), but also lets me know when something is bothering him.

The Man is my best friend, and I am so lucky to be in love with him.