Nifty Things about My Husband

IP is setting up to have a roller coaster of a week, and while I can’t help him delegate and shoo away the annoying people who will come into his orbit, I can try to make him smile a bit.

So, in no particular order, here are 10 nifty things about my husband.

1. He doesn’t wear polo shirts. I don’t know why, but I find polo shirts of all stripes hideous and unflattering on men and women. Maybe it’s too preppy for me? I don’t know, but IP is not a polo man, never has been, probably never will be. And to my dear brothers and father who do wear polos: you’re the only guys I know of who look good in polos, for realsies. I’m sure IP would look good in polos, too, but if he doesn’t feel the need to experiment, neither do I.
2. He is an amazing cook. IP cooks for the joy of it, and it shows in his dishes. Be it a white pasta sauce with fish or a lasagna, his cooking is delicious. He also helps save his some kitchen-challenged wife from culinary disasters from time to time.
3. He is not gratuitously complimentary. What I partly mean is: I don’t constantly seek out compliments, and he doesn’t feel the need to flatter me unnecessarily. However, there are times when he surprises me: I’ll be wearing something I think is fine if not pedestrian, and he’ll bust out with how good I look and how nicely it flatters my butt. I love it because it’s random and unexpected and sincere. Never change, honey! Keep them coming only when you feel like it!
4. He sits down and discusses books with me. Good god, how I love having a literary discussion with IP. Be it here on the blog or at home at our kitchen table, I love talking about tropes, themes, devices, styles, and plot. I still remember discussing the intentional fallacy with him when we first started dating, and I knew then that he was awesome.
5. He has a fantastic build. IP attracted me, mind and body, but as for body . . . hubba, hubba! He has a hockey player-ish kind of body, so . . . hot. I particularly love how he stretches after he’s been to the gym to lift some weights and his biceps and shoulder muscles pop out like whoa. Oh my . . . !
6. He calls me on my shit. If I’m ranting or raving about something, IP will not endorse what I’m saying full tilt if he disagrees or thinks I might have approached things in the wrong way. But he’s respectful in how he calls me on it, and then we discuss whatever my shit is. I don’t need to be coddled if I’m in the wrong—I’m more than happy to hear a different point of view.
7. He gives amazing hugs. The best thing in the world is to be hugged by IP (and no, you can’t get in line, sorry). I come from something of a touchy-feely family—I think it took him a while to get used to me throwing myself into his arms, but his hugs are the best and I cannot resist.
8. He likes his space, and he makes it clear. The good thing is, I also like my space, and I make that clear. So while I’m all about throwing myself into his arms, I’m also all about the separate chillax time that we both need at times. The bottom line of #6 and #8? Honesty. We tell it like it is to one another.
9. He does weekend singalongs with me. I don’t know when we started, and we don’t do it as often as we used to, but there are nights when it’s just us, beer, and our iTunes music open. Cue us singing the parody lyrics to Tears for Fears’ Head Over Heels. “I’ll check the files out when I get over heeeerrreee . . .”
10. He’s hilarious. Be it an imitation of an old grad school nemesis, dissing Vernors, or discussions about Long Island retirees taking up side jobs as New Republic subscription telemarketers, the man makes me laugh about 10 times a day. At least. And I can probably attribute some of my ab muscle development to him and his sense of humor.

I hope this week goes by as fast and as painlessly for you as possible, babe. And remember, I’ll have beer waiting for you at home on Friday afternoon!