I am rather fond of the man I married. I'm sure that's a good thing. I think of how patient he is with me. How supportive he is of every hair-brained idea that comes into my head. How he jumps up and does the dishes after we finish eating dinner. Did I mention he dusts ceiling fans because I causally mention I want to do it next time I clean? He likes to be romantic and surprise me with things. We left for Utah for Christmas and had a lovely trip. When we returned, I unlocked the door and got pushed inside first to turn on the lights in the kitchen. When I did, I turned around and found my Cuisinart Mixer on the table with a big, red bow. Yeah, he's like that. Caring, thoughtful, unselfish, sweet. He is very interpretive and can tell when I need something, sometimes even before I'm willing to admit I need help. He knows me better than he lets on. He will sometimes pull into the gas station for a slushy when I ask, but that is a rare (thankfully) thing. He will fix anything wrong with my computer, even though it means he gets to make fun of me for a few minutes for liking Windows Vista. He is so good to me, and I like him quite a bit. We made it out of the trial period, and I've decided to keep him.