Wednesday, November 3, 2010

My Triple H

I must have saved a thousand children from a burning orphanage in a past life. That’s the only plausible explanation for why I’ve been blessed with such an amazing husband.

Matt and I were married in October 2009. Now before you start thinking, “Ah, they’re newlyweds – that’s why they’re so disgustingly in love,” keep reading. I guarantee you I will still believe this 50 years from now.

I never knew men like Matt could exist. He says “Hi, Beautiful” when he greets me. He talks with me and laughs at my jokes. He listens to my stories and pretends he hasn’t heard them before. He showers me with affection and compliments. He never misses our Wednesday date-nights. He looks forward to coming home after work and watching our shows together. He rubs my back and my feet. When I stand next to him, he keeps his hand on the small of my back and kisses the top of my head.

He plans things for us to do together, from Saturdays at the beach to our entire Hawaiian vacation. We can sit in comfortable silence, staring at the ocean and listening to music for hours. Or we can have long conversations and crack each other up. When I am angry about something, he’s forever my ally, supporting me and reminding me I’m never alone. He makes me feel lovable and desirable. In a million ways, he lets me know he feels lucky to be with me.

And he always has his arms around me at night. He gives great spoon.

Not only does he take care of my heart, he takes care of our home. Matt does more around the house than any man I’ve ever heard of. Our yard is exquisitely kept. He washes dishes and cleans. He’s picks up after himself and cooks more meals than I do. He actually puts his dirty clothes directly into the hamper. Seriously, I’m not making this up.

He tackles household projects like nobody’s business. One time I mentioned that I wanted a new toilet. Boom. Two hours later, he had the new toilet purchased and installed. He’s also a fantastic IT guy. I only have to let out a frustrated sigh, and he’s got my laptop in front of him, fixing the problem.  And it’s never, “Oh, I’ll get to that later.” The man gets s**t DONE. He’s a machine.

I don’t make Matt do these things. I’m not one of those wives who gets a kick out of carrying her husband’s balls around in her purse.  He is not whipped, and I did not “train” him to be this way. It’s part of his exceptional character that he doesn’t know lazy. He gets a sense of self-worth from accomplishing things. He loves getting up on the weekends and crossing tasks off his to-do list, and then enjoying a relaxing afternoon together. He values a job well done and takes pride in making a comfortable home for us. He’s a real man, a grown-up. And that’s damn hot.

If there are any guys reading this, I know what you’re thinking, and worry not. I’m well aware of how reciprocity works and am happy to oblige. Besides, it’s really a win-win. You might also be panicking a bit because your significant other might find out men like this exist and the bar will be raised. Well, I don’t know what to tell ya. Time to step it up, buddy.

And before you ladies who are reading this dislike me too much, you should know that I paid my dues with Husband 1.0. The man who never wielded a vacuum cleaner. The man who thought he deserved a medal for putting forth the effort to bring in the mail. The man who left clothes all over the floor with his shoes buried beneath them so I repeatedly twisted my ankle just getting out of bed in the morning. The man whose selfishness never surprised me, yet never ceased to amaze me. Hence, the “1.0” after “husband.” But that’s another post for another time.   

I do my best to remind Matt how much I appreciate him every day. He’s my Triple H. No, not the professional wrestler called Triple H. Matt’s my Hot, Handsome Husband. And while he ain’t hard on the eyes, he knows that I love him for the way he takes care of me, of us.

I know the “saved a thousand orphans” theory sounds a little far-fetched. So after a few years of therapy, I’m warming up to the other theory that I may actually deserve this man, this happiness. I might really be a good person who’s done things in this life to warrant such a gift. Yeah, maybe he’s pretty lucky to have me, too.