I know who I want to take me home

You're amazing. The kind of amazing before Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes turned amazing into a hackneyed soundbite. You're the real deal.

I know I toss endearments around too easily. Everyone is a sweetie, dear, or hun. But you know that when I call you by your name, there's so much more behind it. You understand why I never use endearments on you (and like that I don't), and approach with caution when I do. I love when you say my name. My name, that I've known and responded to for 21 years, sounds foreign when you say it - there's something in the way you say Michelle, and all the different nicknames that go along with it, that makes me go weak in the knees.

I love that you're tall enough that I can wear kitten heels without feeling self-conscious, but you don't mind if I wear my 4 inch heels that make us look like Imam and David Bowie (granted, we are less beautiful and far less glamorous). You don't mind when I parade around in my pajamas, prancing about and dancing absolutely ridiculously to old music; no, you join me in my spastic twist and shouts, and mouth the lyrics to me as I twirl aroud.

I love that you're silly with me. We're just two kids - completely oblivious to the world turning around us. And I love trying to make you smile, because let's face it. I fell in love with your dimples first. It's what gives you away. When I'm teasing you, you'll gruff out a reprimand, but I know you don't mean it - I see those dimples appear as you turn your head away so I won't see you trying (and failing miserably) to suppress that amused grin. And those eyes. Your eyes speak volumes. You know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, just by making eye contact. I may have fallen in love with your dimples first, but they're facing some fierce competition.

Like they say, actions speak louder than words. And the way you treat me - the way you don't treat me - tells me that you love me. You somehow seem to know when to just sit there with me and hold me, and when I need someone to motivate me to action. And I can't tell you how flattering it is, when I catch you staring at me and when you snap to, you quickly turn away, as though embarrassed.

It's the little things.

You're my lobster. My absolut hunk. My Prince Charming. And I can't wait to find you.