There are so many reasons for me to adore my guy. The man is a schemer and a planner, so I am never surprised when he comes home and says something about, let's say, that new car rental business he started last year -- the one I had no idea existed until somebody called here trying to rent a 15-person van. He tells truly impenetrable jokes that end with punchlines like: "And then the rabbi busted up the focus group with a frozen whitefish." And who could not love a man who takes the time to teach young boys how to belch talk and arm fart? The man is talented. And he has exquisite taste in bling. And fish. I'm so happy he's mine.
But, what I consistently love about my husband is that he is always up for an argument. It is what instantly attracted me to him. I can wake him at 4AM and disagree with him about virtually anything and he will argue with me. It's adorable, especially to my contentious Irish side. Some people might coo with saccharine vows of love, but he knows my favorite term of endearment is "You were right and I was wrong... so wrong" delivered in the deepest too-many-cigarettes-while-closing-the-nightclub-voice. The man is sensitive. And then, of course, I have to love him for putting up with me for a truly scary number of years.
For some good arguing for the sake of it: