My Husband Lives In Montana, And We Haven’t Met Yet

My husband lives in Montana. He works in construction. He used to build stuff, but now he just looks sexy walking around in boots and a hard hat, making sure everyone is doing what they are supposed to be doing. So I have a thing for construction workers, the secret is out. It’s the work boots. Don’t ask me, I can’t explain it. They are just damn sexy.

My husband has a rustic little house on about ten acres. He has an old dog, an old truck, an old dirt bike, and a horse that used to be for the kids. The kids are busy being all grown up now, but the horse remains. He rides it every once in awhile but would rather be on the dirt bike. He doesn’t keep a lot of crap lying around. In fact, he’s a bit of a minimalist. Made it really easy for me to move in. I don’t own a lot of stuff either.

My husband, of course, listens to country music but has a fondness for 80’s and rock. He will listen to almost anything live. He has a favorite bar, where he entertains his friends with stories. He has a laugh that makes you want to tell him something funny just to hear it again. In fact, all day long I collect stories to tell him in hopes that I can make him laugh.

My husband plays hockey. He looks great skating backwards. His favorite team is the Flyers. I adore the Penguins. Nope, neither of us has ever lived in Pennsylvania. He likes football but not obsessively. He thinks basketball is boring crap and refuses to watch soccer with me. The players are too dramatic, he says. I put up with his love of baseball, mostly by ignoring it.

My husband is great at bbq but a loss in the kitchen other than that. Well, except for making a mean margarita. He likes my cooking and doesn’t fret about it having to be gluten free. He loves to come up behind me when I’m in the kitchen and softly bite the back of my neck. Delicious.

My husband is a little taller than 6 feet and has some body on his body. I like this. Makes me feel like a tiny waif. A girl likes something substantial to hold onto in the bedroom. He likes it when I run my fingers all over his skin. I like it when he snatches me up in the morning and pulls me towards him.

My husband thinks that I’m amazing in every way. He can’t understand why I was wandering around single. How could no one see how great I am? And at the same time, he is happy that no one else did see. He loves that I like to write, especially when it is about him! He understands my need to be competitive but makes sure not to compete with me. Unless we are playing darts, then it’s on! He makes me feel safe, and I love him for it. He says things that make me see a different point of view, and he tries to dance salsa with me, even though he is horrible at it.

The night I met my husband, I had wandered into his favorite bar. He, of course, was entertaining his friends with stories. He saw me and walked straight over. “Hello beautiful, what’s your name?” I smiled a little shyly and said, “Kristin.” Who doesn’t like being called beautiful??? “I’m John, and you’re with me,” he replied and then he held out his hand. I didn’t leave his side all night. He ditched the boys and told me all of his stories. He dropped money in the jukebox, and we danced to all of the sappy songs we could find. It was right around the time Toby Keith sang, You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This, that he whispered in my ear, “Oh, I’m definitely going to kiss you, Kristin.” Then he reached out with his hand, tucked my hair behind my ear and slowly, oh so slowly, he good and kissed me. I haven’t left his side since. I haven’t wanted to.