What do you most love about your significant other?

You can talk about physical things or other things as suits your whimsy. Just don’t be tacky.

I’ll start with two. Last night my wife and I went to a lecture. Halfway through I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and when I returned, the question & answer section had begun. My wife was holding her hand up to ask a question, and for a moment I found myself looking at her right hand. It’s really extraordinarily beautiful, as is its counterpart: slender, fine-bonded, nimble-fingered. I can remember thinking, way back in the barista-customer phase of our relationship, that Kim is to hands what Helen of Troy was to faces. The same thought occurred to me last night.

And then the lecturer called on her, and as she asked her question I heard her voice. I love that too. Not just the tenor and timbre–though that is simply wonderful to me, musical even when she’s talking about things no more romantic that buying a microwave–but the way she says things. Her odd ways of phrasing, her sly humor. When I hear her talking after not having heard her for a while, I always have the urge to declare my willingness to provide for her table, kill her enemies, and compose sonnets in her honor.

But that’s just me. Anybody else?

Mrs. Raza is 100% devoted to me…but would leave in 5 minutes if I ever did her wrong. She has my devotion, and respect, in return.

I love his intelligence. I love that he knows stuff, and really understands things and is able and willing to patiently explain them to me or anyone else. I love that he’s my go to guy when I forget how to do quadratic equations, even though I had an algebra class two years ago and his last one was twenty years ago. I love that he never makes me feel stupid for the asking, either.

I love that no matter how insignificant my babbling is, he listens and actually converses with me and pays attention. Even when I think he’s phoning it in, he’ll say something witty and incisive and that just slays me.

I love that he gets me, delights in my sense of humor, and is inordinately proud of me and always has my back. Unconditional love and support, it’s like living a song lyric or something.

I love that he’s assertive when necessary, and never aggressive.

I’m not so good at the “most” qualification, sorry.

I love that even after 12 years, Harborwolf can still crack me up with little or no effort. He’s the smartest, funniest, and kindest person I know. I still get butterflies when I hear his car pull in, and I still want to be around him all the time. He’s always there for me, he understands me better than anyone else, and he loves me for who I am.

Sorry, that was like nine things. :wink:

Her wit.

And the fact she puts up with me at all.

So many things, and I can only pick one?

I’d have to say it’s her voice. Not when we’re in normal conversation, but when we’re in teddy bear talk and/or naked mode. It’s like sweet music.

I would have to say her tolerance for me on a daily basis. I can go from being the happiest guy in the world to wishing everyone would catch on fire and die in about .05 seconds, without much provocation or warning. As much as I know in the back of my head that I’m being mean and pissy, I can’t stop. My girl will handle this in stride, and literally hold me down and kiss my nose until I promise to be nice again. I love her, I do.

Um…I listed at least two, so no. Pick as many as you wish.

I’d have to say it’s her voice. Not when we’re in normal conversation, but when we’re in teddy bear talk and/or naked mode. It’s like sweet music.

Hearing his voice & feeling his touch (a caress, hug, kiss, or when he brushes my hair out of my face…), I cant even put it into words.

The last two nights I have been feeling terrible and have gone to bed crying quietly. Both nights he has heard me sniffling and come to comfort me. Even though I have been super high maintenance lately and I know he would rather be online doing fantasy sports or whatever it is, he has sat on the bed and rubbed my feet and made sure I was OK. He really truly cares about me. It makes me love him exponentially more than I already do.

Also, his butt. It is like a golden, glowing, juicy peach. I want to bite it. He shakes it at me every morning.

He cleans the litterboxes, unasked.

Also, whenever I ask him, he’ll sing to me - over the phone, in bed, in the car - and he has the most fabulous voice that can go from a deep resonant baritone to a pure Irish tenor, so it’s always a joy to hear him sing.

He always manages to bring me back to earth. Maybe because I’m a mother, or because I tend to worry, but I’ll come up with these godawful scenarios and fret over them.

He’ll look at me, laugh, shake his head, and tell me I’m being silly. That calms me down.

He has a nice grabbable butt, too, and a hairless chest. Mmmmm…

He tries. Despite his bad back and constant pain, he tries to have as normal a life as possible.

I love so many things about my husband it is difficult to fit 'em all into one post.

Here are four:
1. He accepts me–no, he celebrates me, and in order to do so, he has to understand me in a way nobody else can.

The other day I sent him an email – it said, ''I miss you :frowning: ‘’
That’s all it said. It doesn’t mean what you think it means.

He knew what it meant. He sent me this image. I almost cried. I know, you must think I’m crazy – and you’re right – but it was PERFECT. He understands me perfectly, and I hardly have to say anything.

2. He’s a really genuinely nice guy. Not only to me. If I didn’t exist, if he’d never met me, he would still be walking around being ridiculously nice. He would dedicate his life to making the world a better place. He would play with children, and help little old ladies across the street. It’s who he is.

3 As mentioned above, I am completely insane. But he’s so ridiculously nice, that even when he’s 100% right and I’m 100% in the wrong, he’s always willing to share the blame. Even if I sit him down and say, ‘‘Honey, I was just a heinous bitch for no reason and I’m sorry,’’ he still meets me half way. He always has to say, ‘‘No, but you were right. I should pay more attention to X. I’m sorry if I made you feel Y.’’ Because that is also who he is.

4 Every day when I get home from work I talk to him about what I heard on NPR. This is exciting for both of us. We enjoy the same things. We are fascinated and entertained by the same things. It makes life infinitely easier. He is my best friend and he is just as excited about me as I am about him. Holy crap, I’m the luckiest person on the planet.

I love the way I can fit so perfectly into him when we’re snuggling. The crook of his arm is exactly the right size and shape to cradle my head when I’m having a rotten day.

I love his calmness. I’m easily flustered at times, usually over silly mundane things, but his unruffled calm is always enough to soothe me back to normalcy.

I love the way he listens with absolute focus when conversing one-on-one. I’ve never seen someone communicate “I’m listening” with their entire body before.

But most of all, I just love the fact that he sometimes looks at me with such utter amazement, as if he’s not sure how he managed to score a babe like me… because I’m usually looking back in wonder, trying to figure out how I ever managed to score an amazing man like him.

My lady seems to know everything. She has a couple of thousand books in her apartment now, more in storage, and who knows how many recycled or given away. Her book list of “titles I must own someday” id over a thousand titles long, and she adds to it frequently.

She’s so widely read, and has such a terrific memory, that she’s a walking encyclopedia and I have yet to find a topic that she doesn’t know at least something about yet. Our conversations are legendary.

When I developed a rare illness, it was she who talked me down from suicide and nursed me back to health and sanity. I was a monster for several years, and she never shrunk from the heat of battle, and had an uncanny knack to say or do exactly what I needed, day or night.

When I went to work for a charity for this malady, and later started my own, she was with me every step of the way. She helped form the business and keep it running, often doing her duties and mine as well. It cost her a great deal of time, energy and money, but I never heard a word of complaint.

We knew each other in college back in the 70s and over the years she tracked me down from time to time. About 15 years ago she called me out of the blue. As it turns out, she and I had both just ended extended relationships. We got together and have been at it ever since.

She’s smart, kind, gracious, generous—and so much more words fail to describe—and nobody cooks a better steak! She’s expanded every facet of my life, and brought me more joy, peace and comfort than I could have imagined possible.

There’s not a day that passes that I don’t thank whatever gods there be for her love.

She’s known here as Sassy, but I call her my Sunshine.

There’s so many reasons, some touched on here by others, some relevant only to he and I.

But there’s one thing he does that makes me love him more every time he does it.

He plays “peek-a-boo” with me.

daHubby is my best friend ever. Ever.

And he has a quite biteable ass too.

Skald, thank you for starting this thread, and thank you for opening it up to more than just one thing we have to list.

This thread is amazing in that it’s so incredibly full of love. And that’s what I find attractive about Guitar Mommy. I mentioned her voice, but that’s really selling her short. It’s everything that she conveys with her voice. The other week I was on the phone with her, when her daughter came downstairs to ask for something. There’s no way I can express, in text, how she said “Hi Claire Bear!”, but it was with such complete and pure LOVE.

The first time I was over at her house, her dog picked up a stuffed toy and started butting on my thighs with it. She (the dog) was so excited to greet me, that it was as if she was saying “be my friend be my friend be my friend be my friend be my friend be my friend be my friend!”

Guitar Mommy sets the tone in her house, and in her life. Nothing less than complete affection is acceptable. Complete strangers become friends. Friends become central to life. There are no bad feelings to anyone, at any time.

You know what she did? She went over to a client’s house and made food. She’s an excellent cook, and spent an entire day cooking for her friend’s family. Not out of a sense of obligation, not to assuage a low self-esteem, and not to seek approval. It’s all because she has so much to give. Her cup overfloweth.

That much positive emotional energy is hard to contain, but I try to anyway. I try my best to wrap my whole body around her and reflect all of it back to her. And it all just comes right back to me.

I love her so much!

All that, and I haven’t even mentioned her titties yet. Yum!

Recently I fell for this incredible woman that I met through friends. One thing that initially intimidated me about getting into a relationship with her was that she is so damn busy I wondered how I’d be able to weasel my way into her busy life without coming off as clingy or controlling. It happened a lot more effortlessly than I had thought, with her inviting me over to her place several times a week and asking me to stay the night so she could wake up next to me the following morning.

Last week I called her during my lunch break, acting rather whiny. I had forgotten to pack a lunch AND bring a jacket. I was basically stuck at this bus station with nothing to eat, nothing to read, and was rather cold. She offered to help, but I declined, saying it was just nice enough having someone to talk with to pass the time. I let her go since she said she had to study, sat down on a bench and basically tried to zone out/doze to kill 60 minutes of boredom. A while later someone kicks my foot and I look up and its her, she brought me a Quiznos sandwich, a newspaper, and loaned me one of her jackets :smiley:

She’s incredibly observant and thoughtful; she can see me eat a sandwich and observe the things I pick out of the sandwich, the next time she gets one for me she knows exactly what I like/don’t like without me having to actually tell her at all.

Her bringing me lunch last week really meant a lot to me. So last Tuesday she texts me telling me that she’s really behind on work and didn’t have time to get dinner. So I returned the favor and got her a sandwich that I know she liked, omitting the items she disliked, etc and brought it over to her house that night. She really appreciated the effort.

Oh yeah, and the sex is fantastic

Well, I’m going to be Mr. base selfish fiend and say that one of the myriad reasons is that she has gotten exponentially sexier to me over the years and I have to pinch myself to realize I’m actually married to a total milf like her. And, yeah, we’re good friends, she completes me, etc. blah, blah, blah. :smiley:

I try my best to make her happy, and anybody that inspires that in me deserves a gold medal.