Dreamy Husband

I have a dreamy husband. Face it ladies. You wish he were yours.

Whether he's sporting the stubbled chin with an old worn out BYU cap or he's in a freshly laundered and ironed button-up shirt with the scent of aftershave still wafting off of his freshly shaved, masculine chin.

He's a hottie.

Not only is he dreamy in the oh-my-word-he-is-so-goodlooking-he-looks-like-he-should-be-in-a-manly-magazine sort of way, he also takes my breath away in the my-man-is-so-sweet-and-wonderful-because-he-just-made-me-dinner-and-let-me-be-lazy-while-he-did-dishes-and-then-gave-me-head-massage-all-because-he-loves-me sort of way.

There was that one time that I ranted and raved about how I really despised where I was student teaching and I never wanted to become a teacher and how he was going to have to live with a wife who stayed at home and vegged the rest of her life away because she was sick of stupid people, stupid requirements, and a certain stupid anonymous university. You'd think most husbands would grab their wife and try to shake some sense into them. Instead, my husband went out and bought me flowers and Oreos.

Needless to say, I went back to teaching the next day.

Dreamy husband?

That's a resounding, "yes!"