He’s so easy to get along with. Compared to any other men, especially my first husband. Who I loved, but he was not easy.
The COBRA for my health insurance was going to run out.
My sister likes him.
He can carry on an intelligent conversation, and he knows who Noam Chomsky is.
He doesn’t hunt or fish, one of three such men in South Dakota.
He is liberal in his political views, also a tiny minority in SD.
Though he’s a physician, he agrees with me that some doctors fleece their patients, especially oncologists and orthopedists.
He’s opposed to unrepentant financial self-indulgence, as am I.
He admires my intellect. He likes poetry. He gives money to public broadcasting.
He has an excellent dog.
I admire his neck ties.
He likes my cats. He likes my sister (Who doesn’t, except those losers at the girl scouts?) He likes to shovel. He likes to cook.
He does the grocery shopping. How fantastic is this?
He mows the lawn. (or “cuts the grass” if you’re from the south.)
He does his own laundry.
He has a hardcover copy of The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, and my soft cover was falling apart.
Oh yeah-and I love him!