Mac and Me

My husband and I are about as different as daylight and dark. He is blue-eyed and blonde, tall and muscular, a blue collar worker, and he adores red meat. I, on the other hand, am short, black-haired, a white collar worker, and I really don't eat much meat at all. Oh, and he's 23. I'm 31. There is that.

One would wonder what business two people like that have being married. We've been married for 4 years. He was 19, I had just turned 28 when we walked down the aisle. I already had two children from a previous relationship. He had graduated from high school the year before. I was a paralegal and a prestigious law firm. He was training to be an auto mechanic.

We both adore role playing games, which is how we met. I was completely unaware until then that girls who play RPGs are considered sexy by the males who also play, mainly because there are way too few of us. He asked me to go out with him the third time we were in each other's company. Reluctantly, I accepted. Two nights later, we loaded up my kids, per his request, and went to see Shrek. I was hooked.

Now, this is why we work: Deep down, we really like each other. That sounds simple, but it makes all the difference in the world. He's the first person I think about when something goes down in my life. I can't wait to share funny jokes with him, or to watch a movie with him, even if I've seen it before, just to see how he reacts. I love to cook for him, since his mother relied mostly on KFC for dinner. And Mac? He loves to take me fishing, which I had never done before we met. He loves the way I trust him and value his opinion. He laughs at my jokes and holds me when I cry. In short, we're best friends.

Please forgive me for saying this, but it's true: I would rather hold his hand for five minutes than spend three hours with the world's most talented gigolo.

So, here's to Mac. He's more man than any man I've ever known.