(never mind–edited for my lack of reading comprehension) 
My post is about a an ex girlfriend not a spouse and its totally stupid and I am aware of it but am being honest here .
When I was in Germany I had a German girl friend ,I could get by in German but by no stretch of the imagination could I be considered anywhere near fluent.
Being English I subconsciously expect everyone in the world to speak English though I know its a completely illogical presumption.
My gf spoke fluent English which didn’t impress me at all because as I say I subconsciously expected her to.
But it used to impress the hell out of me when she rattled off in German to other Germans.
As I said totally stupid but thats how I felt at the time.
Mr. SCL is a nurse and used to help my out a lot when I was fostering kittens on a regular basis. We had been fostering two kittens who had been found in a bathtub delivered to a house under construction - a beautiful black female, and Bill.
Bill the Cat wasn’t beautiful. Bill wasn’t cute. Bill wasn’t even “so ugly he’s cute”. Bill was fugly. A tuxedo cat, he had bug eyes, really skinny little legs and such a pot belly you could see the skin of his stomach through the fur. I kept taking him to the vet because his stomach was so big I thought something was wrong with him. Nope - he’s just ugly.
Kittens do grow up, and it came time to take them back in to the vet where I worked to be put up for adoption. I already had a houseful of cats, so keeping them was not an option. As I put the fluffy beautiful little girl in the carrier, Mr. SCL said “We need to keep him”. Me: “WHAT?” Mr. SCL: “We need to keep him. He’s so ugly no one will ever adopt him and he’ll have to grow up in a cage. We’ll keep him.”
Bill did grow up to be quite a handsome fellow. I wish I had a picture of him from his younger days for comparison.
About a year and a half ago I went into hospital to remove some scar tissue from my abdomen in relation with my endometriosis. After the surgery instead of getting better, I got worse and worse, and after a few days they discovered that I’d gotten a nick in my intestine that had become a hole and I was rushed off to surgery again. I woke up with a colostomy bag. (Everything’s back where it’s supposed to be now, thankfully)
Anyway, the way my SO dealt with everything was incredible. He sat by my bed holding my hand, hung out with my mom who had come to help me recover from the initial surgery and was just a really cool guy about everything the two weeks I stayed in hospital. But the coolest thing was when I came home…
I was quite self-conscious about the bag and all the scars so going to bed the first night I put on a nightie. We usually sleep in the nude so he asked what that was for and I told him. His response was: "Well, if you prefer it, it’s fine, but I hope it’s not on my account 'cause I always prefer you without. 
" He really made me feel sexy and wanted and was completely unfazed by the whole thing for the six months I had that bag. Even the one time I panicked and he had to help me change it.
He’s a really good guy, and I will always love him for what he did for me then, simply by being there and loving me.
My previous husband and I were coming home late after work one nasty snowy February, and came upon the most decrepit old short bus full of kids broken down in the middle of two lanes at the bottom of a steep, unlit hill notorious for accidents. The bus was painted white (roller and latex) and had barely legible printing East Harlan Freewill Baptist Church Youth (Kentucky; the socio-economically depressed end). The driver was clearly scared and upset, being 3 hours from home and a bus full of cold and nervous teens.
My husband was well known for being an excellent mechanic, but this bus was a model from the early sixties that he knew nothing about. “Ya’ll need some help?” “Yes, mister please, God bless, we are freezing, we’ve got a long way to go, God bless, Oh, do you think you can help us, we’re freezing” etc. The driver started frantically looking for the hood release latch, and H. suddenly opened the passenger door, told the startled girl in the front seat “I need to get in here” opened the glove box, reached in, tweaked something in the motor… “Try to start her” and the bus. Roared. To life. Cacophony of well wishes, blessings, surprised noises “Oh my goodness, God bless you sir, thank you, thank you, We’ll pray for you sir!”
We get back in the car. Three or four miles later “Have you ever worked on a bus that old?” “I’ve never worked on a bus.” “Um… how did you know that the glove box was an access panel to the motor?” “I remember hearing someone say something about it once.” “umm…what just happened?” Shrug.
That was cool.
The present love of my life is also a good mechanic with a large group of bumbling friends. J fixes everycar, day or night, and is practically idolized for his ability to repair any import, including rotary engines. But the cool part: J always keeps an empty gas can in his car, just in case he passes someone walking after a breakdown. He stops and offers to help nearly every broken down driver like it is his job. I know this is likely, so I am always prepared to be a little late to whatever event we are going to, and I keep a clean shirt with me just in case he gets dirty. He is truly compelled to help people. J is generous and kind. I love this about him. I’m proud.
I would have jumped him right there. 
H. was always reluctant to approach strangers though he would do anything for someone who asked. We were arguing when we came upon that bus,and I had to scream at him to stop, go back and try to help those kids. I don’t know if it was his instant success or the prayers of a handful of grateful teenagers that did it, but that action ended 25 years of painful shyness. He was a different man from that night forward. It was an awesome transformation. His current wife (who I am crazy about) has the man of her dreams, and I have mine. Sometimes things fall into place.
It was a dark and stormy night back in '91.
No, really. All references to Snoopy aside, it was November, it was dark, it was pouring freezing rain.
My wife and I were traveling on a very rural road near our (at that time) home in Grantsville, UT. A pickup truck ahead of us hit his brakes hard and skidded to a stop. We stopped, and I ran up to see what the problem was. The driver was stunned, and stammered something about hitting an animal. His windshield was smashed and the right side of the cab roof was caved in. Luckily, there was no passenger sitting on that side and the driver was not seriously injured.
After looking around for a few minutes, we found the 18 month old colt lying in the borrow pit next to the highway. As I called for assistance, my wife, who was a CNA at the time, immediately took charge. After assessing the drivers injuries and determining that they were minor, she looked to the colt.
His injuries were severe. Broken left rear leg and hip. Several broken ribs. Severe cuts and abrasions. Large gash in the abdomen. This poor animal was in pain, and suffering tremendously. I could see no alternative but to put the animal down, and so I started back to our pickup to retrieve my gun.
My wife, however, was having none of that.
With the help of six other motorists, we got the colt loaded into the back of our pickup. My wife rode in back with the colt, doing her best to control the bleeding. I called and arranged to have the vet meet us at the veterinary hospital.
After a cursory examination, the vet declared that the best thing to do would be to put the animal down, My wife, however, was having none of that, either.
We never found out who that colt belonged to, or where it escaped from.
As I sit here, some (shit, has it really been that long?) sixteen years later, looking out the window at Shiva, Destroyer of Worlds, I can’t help but tear up remembering the eight months my wife spent nursing that colt back to health, the trophies he won during his barrel racing career, or all the trail rides he went on 'till my wife hurt her back, endured two back surgeries, and became unable to ride him any more.
If I may be allowed to paraphrase similar sentiments expressed in this thread, I cannot imagine a life without my wife by my side.
A more true and loyal friend no man has ever had.
Lucy
I think you are talking about a vault .
My Guy is extremely attractive. He’s got the looks and I’ve got . . . well, I’ve got him.
He’s always getting hit on by people of both genders, and it always amazes me how gracious he is, even to totally obnoxious people with whom I have no patience whatsoever. It’s truly astounding how so many people just don’t take no for an answer, but I’ve never seen him impolite or unkind to anyone at all.
Six months ago, my daughter was barely a week old and had been diagnosed with a brain haemorrhage two days before. The neurosurgeon walked into our daughter’s room and told us our darling girl would not need surgery. My husband looked at me, looked at our daughter and promptly burst into tears. That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen him do.
Thanks muchly! I had a “duhh” moment and was too embarassed to go ask someone!
Perform the lead role in A Doll’s House and also she has directed several Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde plays.
This is such a great thread and I’m glad it’s here to read.