Maybe it's the way he counts calories, maximizing caloric intake eating healthy options versus wasting calories on junk food or the fact that he hasn't eaten at a fast food restaurant in over two years. Or the way he prefers to go to bed hungry versus eating too late.
He claims he hasn't gained a 1/2 a pound in four years; yet, he has gained six pounds since he met me.
Military length hair cut, groomed to perfection.
Six-pack abs. Ripped-tone body.
My favorite is when he wears a t-shirt and the soft cotton material stretches across his back muscles, but hangs loosely down the middle of his back and loose around his trim waist. His arms ripped and strong with a tattoo circling his upper arm, a splash of edginess, outlining his muscles that go all the way down to his strong, muscular hands. *sigh*
I'm not kidding at all when I say he looks like a Calvin Klein model, splashed with a few tattoos.
At 41, his body looks 21.
In all things ridiculous, I call him pork chop.
I think how it happened was ... he was probably making remarks about the portion-sizes I put on his plate for dinner stating that he has gained three pounds, but that he would lose it in two days by watching what he eats. That comment in itself is annoying!
Quite possibly I was probably touching him with my hand over his six-pack abs and he was saying something preposterous like he was getting fat, and I referred to him as, "Pork Chop." To match his absurd comment.
Oh my gosh, I think that caught him off guard, but the name stuck and he now refers to himself in third-person for example, "No, Pork Chop does not need any more cookies", etc.
I love this handsome boy. I love his heart, our friendship, the bzillion ways he makes my life richer and more fulfilled every single day, and this relationship that we have both put everything into.
I love laughing with him over the silly things and in all things ridiculous, I love the utterly foolish nickname Pork Chop that teasingly and loving really means you are magnificently and beautifully made.
