Why my guy is the best.

After doing a few loads of laundry, my husband does the 4 to midnight at his second job as relief manager at the homeless woman’s shelter. On the way home he remembers to stop at the bagel shop.

The next morining he happily lets his wife kiss him after she has a garlic bagel with whitefish salad! Back off girls! He’s all mine.
The above is all true. Can your SO top that?

Oh Yeah???

Well, mine worked from 10-7 yesterday to come home and entertain guests all evening. He then took the poor sick dog out 4 times in the 6 hours of sleep he had before he went to work this morning.

…and he cooks and cleans!!! (He’s doing laundry when he gets home this afternoon!!!

:D:D:D

Yeah, Yeah. You have him pussy whipped. What a waste of a good drinking buddy. Soon he will see the light. Send him over my way and I shall deprogram him.

HA! That’s nothing! Once, after a long day at work, I FED THE CAT! That’s right, I walked all the way into the kitchen, got the cat food, and fed the cat all by myself.

And one other time I cleaned the toilet. Not in the same week though or anything.

Oh yeah? Oh yeah???

Well my SO puts up with ME!!! Daily.

Top that.

Well… my SO lately has been coming and going, doing whatever he damn well pleases and not giving a shit about what I want to do, or the fact that I want to spend some time with him. Then blaming it all on me.

oops! This was suppose to be GOOD things our SO does…

hmm… let me think on that one.

:mad:

My guy likes snakes AND Jane Austen. He appreciates weird food and foreign travel, and he doesn’t mind poverty. He’s also a terrific drinking buddy, his accent alone sets my knees trembling, and for some inexplicable reason the poor besotted fool is crazy about me. It doesn’t get any cooler than that.

… All right, it would be much, much cooler if we actually lived on the same continent. Sigh…

It is IMPOSSIBLE to top that, Dewt, my love…and you all have NO IDEA what ‘putting up’ with him entails…

::shudders::

no one can top that…NO ONE…I am the great-GODDESS-of-all-things-Dewt.

::thwacks dewt with uncleaned litter box::

even Bratman fed the cat once…I’m thinking of going to live with him…

Well, my SO works at K-Mart full time shudder, then he comes home, and cleans the place up, does the laundry, helps me with any and all homework I might have, well, he helps me with everything. He never complains, and I know that I can depend on him for any and everything.

Oh yeah, well MisterTot doesn’t mind one bit that I’m going to Dublin even though he knows that the charming Coldfire, John Larrigan, Yojimbo and possibly Spiny Norman will be there. It doesn’t make him one bit jealous that he’ll be driving a tank or something through Poland while I’ll be having the time of my life. And until he sees the credit card bills I’ll be racking up, he won’t mind those either. So, hah!

The cat has claws and teeth. He’s perfectly capable of finding and killing something, isn’t he? Isn’t that what claws and teeth are for?

:: running like hell ::

washes and folds laundry, cooks meals, does dishes, watches kids, helps with my menagerie, pays bills

I think I’ll keep him.

Well, dewt did give Dylan the last tablespoon of instant coffee the other morning. Of course, if he was really the best, he would have made her a pot of freshly ground Jamaican…

Oops…I’m not helping any, am I? Sorry, dewt, I gave it my best shot. :slight_smile:

He got fixed so I don’t have to!

He changes the cat boxes voluntarily.

True (but slightly disgusting) story: I have lots of issues with my family, but we went to spend Xmas with them a couple years ago. Xmas dinner was a disaster, and I was too upset to eat, but not too upset to drink most of a bottle of red wine. This destroyed my judgement enough that I let my sister(the only family member I get along with) talk me into visiting one of her friends later, where I promptly drank lord know how many martinis. Being an amorous drunk, I put the moves on my husband as soon as he got me back to our hotel room. The sex was great, but the bouncing around was obviously the last straw for my abused innards. Almost immediately upon climax, the wine and martinis came back to visit with a vengeance. Not only did my husband hold my hair, clean everything (including me)up afterwards, and tuck me into bed, but he has never told the story to anyone else or made any reproachful remark, except to remind me that I don’t drink martinis any more. Now that’s love.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!

No… the coffee bit was good… real good…

1 step forward, 2 steps back. Damn. Now I’m off to find a goddam coffee grinder.