Him

Dear Jane,

Big dumb head and no neck
Looks like Patrick from Spongebob Squarepants
when he does that stupid thing with his mouth
But then again, looks a little like Jimmy Kimmel
which is enough to ruin my hardon (I'll take Patrick any day)
Chases a tiny white ball around in the hot sun on the weekends --
and calls it fun
Loves old 1970's rock and roll and is one of the few people who can beat me at trivia
Wears Levi's Dockers -- the pleated kind, and
really bad suburban shoes
Also lots of those stupid golf shirts with little logos on the chest
Downloads porn - but not even good porn - that his friends send to him
He would be better suited to get friends with more imagination to send him porn
Although I believe his friends probably live lives as similarly small as his

He does, however, drive a muscle car, which a girl like me is susceptible to
And seems to be afraid to let people know how deeply kind he actually is
God forbid, his cover should get blown by a random act of kindness
He seems to be genuinely touched by acts of kindness that are shown to him
As if it is something that he is not used to
Which makes me feel compassion for the little boy he once was
Who was apparently conditioned to believe the old saw "kill or be killed."

He is a passionate and generous lover,
A phenomenal kisser
And other things

Jane, to be perfectly honest, if you don't want to have sex with your husband, I am perfectly happy to. Damn, he's just so good at it. The funny thing is you would never look at him and say, "I'll bet he's a smokin' hot lay." I mean, the guy looks like he dances with the White Man's Overbite and I'm sure he owns a double-breasted suit (bet you picked it out, told him it was "slimming.")

I don't want him forever. Right now is good, though.

Anecdote: The day after Valentine's Day, your husband showed up at work wearing what had to be the most godawful fugly shirt I have ever seen. It was this billowy pink plaid thing, and it was just horrible. At this fashion moment in time, I am seeing pink checkered shirts all over the place -- the boys in Chelsea are buying them by the rackful at Banana Republic or something. But those are different -- those are close-fitting, stylish, and so crisp and summery looking. I like them. The 7th Avenue abortion your husband was sporting that day looked like, well... here is what my comment was (and I will be the first to admit that sometimes I can be breathtaking in my meanness, this one even caught me off guard) -- "Nice blouse, ___. Did you get that made from Laurie's dress from Oklahoma?"

He has never worn it to work again.