Here are a few reasons why I love The Boy, the most. This is not an exhaustive list.
He is one of the best people I know. Genuine, caring, kindhearted, totally ethical.
He is funny and cracks me up; plus, he laughs at my dumb jokes.
He understands when I'm so tired from work and talking at work all day that I don't want to talk or hear talking - he doesn't take it personally. Sometimes, he even stops talking for a while while I am feeling that way. ;-)
He does nice stuff for our friends, even when it's totally not convenient or fun for him at all.
He is open minded and smart, and not conceited at all. He approaches life in a slightly different way that is uniquely him. It is so cool.
He's gone from being a heater-upper to a pretty damn good cook in a short time - and he cooks lovely dinners for me all the time.
He takes really, really good care of me - he does just everything to make my life easier. I couldn't do it without him.
He is a most excellent pet parent - our dogs are the most beloved, but not overly coddled, dogs out there. And our cat was surely snatched back from the brink of death through his sheer will power and determination.
He's helping a friend build a treehouse for his kids.
He renovated his old bike so I can use it, and he keeps making further adjustments so that it will be even better for me.
(No offense to dear family and friends, but...) He was never a Mormon.
Even though he is aware down to the ounce how much he weighs on any given day, and is frequently bothered about maintaining his boyish figure, he does not ever say (or even think, as far as I can tell) anything about my weight or figure.
He's a babe, and he always looks cute in or out of his clothes.
He encourages me when I'm down and out; he helps me try new things. He doesn't EVER say anything remotely negative or discouraging when I am NOT up for trying something new.
He indulges my extreme lack of ability to deal with temper flares of any kind, and he keeps his anger in check 99% of the time. The anger he does have is pretty mild and nonlethal. He doesn't hate on me or kick me out of the car when I say poky things at him when he is a little, um, angry.
He doesn't yell at me. Ever. EVER. And I don't yell at him either. That is perfect, and just what I wanted.
He seems to really understand me and my bizarre needs; I hope I do the same for him.
B-O-Y, I love ya rotten. :-)