My husband is a great bear of a man, with bright blue eyes, a bushy reddish beard and mustache, a little more sparse on the top than he was when we met. He's worn many hats over his lifetime, from bouncer to mechanic, trucker to railroad engineer, and more. He's a social guy who has many many networking contacts all over the place. He's a bubba, a good old boy, a country gentleman, a gitRdone redneck.
I'm a shy, eclectic, punk-hippy-goth-nerd crafter who has trouble even shopping in public let alone hosting a big bbq in the back yard. We are total opposites in appearance and in personality. We are a good fit though, as odd as it may seem.
He's so very very dedicated to me. Loyal and true. Faithful. Devoted.
And he has several sweethearts.
Today he went out to the store. He came home and showed me the gifts he'd chosen for each of the other ladies. I smiled and voiced my approval and appreciation.
You see, both his mother and mine are widows. He thinks of them every year. Every year for valentine's and every other holiday, he looks after both our moms since our dads aren't here anymore, recognizing them for the lovely women and mothers they are. They don't spend the holidays alone or forgotten. He's a wonderful sweet son and son in law.
And in the same vein, he's an amazing father. We have four sons (two are nearly 16, the others are 11 and 12). We also have two little daughters, 10 months and 4 years. They are Daddy's Sweethearts through and through. When we were trying to decide what to do for our Valentine's date night, they were automatically included. He's so proud to be their daddy and enjoys every opportunity to show off his beautiful ladies.
So when he came home with five Valentine's Day gifts, my heart just swelled. I love him so much. He's my man, and I gladly share him with these other women. We're all lucky to have him.
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