It's charming husband's birthday today! I'm so excited, even though he's not here. He left at 8 am this morning, while I was still contemplating the idea of getting up, and he won't be back until tomorrow evening. 

 

He's _____! Just take my add and subtract 20, and that's how old he is. A mere child, one would think, yet he is the mature one in this relationship. Which doesn't mean he can't act like a 10 year old when he wants to, which is why he's so much fun to have around. 

 

I never got along with older men. They're so set in their ways. And when I was dating, older men (by which I mean men closer to my age, not old men) always thought I should stop taking care of Stew, my ex-husband with the mental illness situation. As if they had anything to say about it.

 

But Andrew . . . he came along and he said, "you gotta do what you gotta do," though not in those words exactly. Doesn't matter the actual words. He accepted that Stew was a part of my life, and he accepted him and became a friend to Stew as well. Stew was in need of friends, that's for sure.

 

Later, when I became difficult about having a relationship, not wanting to take a chance on failing at another one and having my heart ripped out, something I'm loathe to do on the best of days, it was Stew who told me to calm down and give Andrew a chance, to stop trying to ruin things just because I was scared.

 

And when Stew was dying, Andrew and I headed to California to spend his last Christmas with Stew and his parents. Months later, Andrew sent me off to California to be with Stew when he lay dying.

 

Andrew is the absolute best husband anyone could ever have. I'm sure yours is nice too, blah blah blah, and he does nice things for you, but mine's the best. He makes me laugh, he lets me talk about all the things I want to do, he goes along on my flights of whimsy, usually, and he does things around the house, though occasionally he forgets that when he puts things into the washer they must later go into the dryer, but if he were perfect I'd feel as if I couldn't live up to my side of the bargain, so it's just as well. 

 

Sometimes he cooks for me, and sometimes I cook for him. Sometimes we just let someone else cook for us because we both work late a lot. He wants to take care of me, and given how rapidly I'm aging that may become necessary. He just loves being with me, and I love being with him.

 

He's the kind of guy who does what he says he's going to do, and having been with the other kind (first husband, who shall remain nameless for our purposes), that is such a welcome relief, believe me. He's trustworthy and reliable and responsible, and probably could have been a Boy Scout if they hadn't had to throw him out for disrupting class. (Not that Boy Scouts have classes, it just seemed apropos.) 

 

He helps me dress so I don't look like I'm homeless and living on the streets. He doesn't allow me to wear sweatpants out in public unless I'm exercising, but this is a good thing. He brings me water when I'm thirsty and my laptop when I want to write something, and he brings me presents when I don't expect them.

 

He's smart, and he's a smartass, so we have that in common. He's not as good with budgeting, but that's my job, and mowing the lawn is his. He's always making sure that I am entertained and comfortable, and if I'm not, he'll see what needs to happen to make it so.

 

He entertains the dogs when they need entertaining and I'm out of energy. He can spend hours in the kitchen making something fabulous and not wash a single pot or dish while he's in there. This in itself is not a strength, since someone's got to clean it up, but he doesn't hesitate to try new things, and he doesn't mind spending the time to learn something new. 

 

He keeps me sane, and he keeps me grounded, and he listens and he tries to understand even my most convoluted plots, and even if he doesn't, it doesn't matter, because he supports me in anything I want to do.

 

He's not just the best husband, he's the best person I know.

 

Happy Birthday Andrew!