Update: Apparently, I have a list of 14 qualities of the type of guy I like. Jeez. Forgot about that post. This is what happens when you start reading old blog posts. :)

We’ve all seen those internet quizzes where you answer a bunch of random questions and it spits out a generic type of person you’re destined to be with. Your “type”, if you will. They’re not exactly the most scientific way of figuring out the person you should spend the rest of your life with, but fun nevertheless.

If asked, I would probably say that I’ve never really had a “type”. I say this, but I have always found myself attracted to men with dark brown hair and blue eyes- mainly of the British or Scottish persuasion, to be my cup of tea. Have I ever dated a dark brown haired, blue-eyed Brit? Sadly, no. But if I did have a “type”, then I suppose it would be a man who had common sense, was intelligent enough to keep up with me at Jeopardy, and someone who could make me laugh. I love a good sense of humor in a man. It’s really the most attractive quality in the opposite sex, in my opinion. It’s what makes my blood warm and my pulse quicken. There’s something very sexy about a guy who is smart, but still silly enough that he would make a total ass of himself just to see a girl smile. Someone with a weird, almost sick sense of humor. So yeah, I guess I do have a “type”.

Before I continue, I need to say that I’m married to to the greatest guy ever. He’s so patient and he puts up with me, so he can’t be all that bad. One of the things that first attracted me to my husband was his sense of humor. He loved to have a good time and he knew exactly what to say and do to make me laugh and smile.

I’m famous for telling anyone who asks how the two of us didn’t get on at all when we first met. He thought I was this fast little thing in a short summer dress who REALLY wanted the job and I thought he was a grumpy man with a tendency to throw keys across the radio station when he was in a bad mood. He was the Mr. Darcy to my Elizabeth. Over time though we found something in each other and love bloomed. I discovered that he wasn’t grumpy at all and that he had a way of making me laugh like no-one else ever had. So I snatched him up and made an honest man out of him. To this day, whenever I’m in a bad mood or just being plain mean or grumpy, he can say something to make me laugh and all is well. I’m at my happiest when I’m sitting beside him in the car laughing like an idiot over something crazy he’s said or done.

Take today, for instance. My husband and I decided to get out early and scout around the Savannah historic district for some yard sales. This really is the best time for yard sales because all of the SCAD students are leaving for the summer or graduating and they’re selling practically everything they can so they don’t have to take it back home. You can get some really good deals and steals. All of this has nothing to do with my story though, so I’ll skip to the end.

So we finish with the yard sales and we’re chatting it up in the truck on the way home and we hear “John Deere Green” on the radio. I begin to sing in a silly voice and my husband is giving me this look like I’ve lost my mind. It’s that point that I turn to look at him with the most earnest, sincere look on my face and say, “How come you’ve never climbed a water tower and did that for me?”

He proceeded to explain that:
1) His name isn’t Billy Bob.
2) My name isn’t Charlene.
3) That he isn’t climbing up “some damn water tower to fall to my death just for you, girl!”

That’s when I began to whine a little about how it wasn’t fair that my name wasn’t spray-painted on an overpass, underpass, or hallpass. I wanted a very loud, very colorful act of vandalism to prove that he loves me as much as he says he does.

So he thought about it for a minute, rolled down his window, slowed down at the red light in a very busy, crowded intersection and yelled at the top of his lungs to everyone within hearing distance of three miles, “I love Gennie! I love Gennie! I love this woman!!! I love Gennie! Do you hear me? I love her!!! I LOOOOVVEEE GENNNIIIEEE!!!”

People were craning their necks from their vehicles to find out what the commotion was. Some poor guy on a motorcycle almost fell over in fear. People walking into the Auto Zone and those in the parking lot for the car wash all turned their heads to find out why this crazy man in the truck was yelling and who the hell this Gennie chick was. I could only cover my face and sink way down into the floorboard, praying no-one I knew had seen or heard this very vocal display of love.

After a good minute and a half of this passion-induced screaming, my husband rolled up his window and smiled at me. Our son was in the backseat rolling around thinking this was the best thing he had ever witnessed in his life. That’s when I busted out laughing and decided that Billy Bob and Charlene could keep their damn water tower and green heart. My husband doesn’t roll like that. He does very loud, very colorful acts of drive-by love vandalism.

Oh, I love that man. He’s crazy, but he’s mine and I guess I’m kinda stuck with him for life. I was reminded today why I fell in love with him and why I decided to marry him. He’ll do anything to make me smile, even if it means yelling like a madman at half the city.

Never again will I question how far he’s willing to go to profess his love for me. Honestly, I’m afraid to.