Mr. Wonderful

Some of you loyal readers may wonder why my husband of almost five years is never referred to by name, but rather, "Mr. Wonderful." This mostly has to do with my overinflated sense of self-importance, since I am a celebrity after all, and I need to respect and protect the privacy and anonymity of my loved ones.

One of the bloggers I enjoy and respect the most (and have read the longest), James Lileks, has always referred to his best friend as "The Giant Swede" and calls his elementary school-age daughter "Gnat." So I thought I'd follow suit, and come up with a blogosphere designation for my husband.

And one of the first things that came to mind was "Mr. Wonderful," mostly because he' s, well, wonderful. When it seems like everyone else's boyfriends and husbands just never want to talk, share household chores, or cuddle, my husband is remarkably proficient (and interested) in all of these activities.

Which is why, three or four years ago, at a married couples' retreat, he was the proud winner of a Mr. Wonderful talking doll, which, a little too enthusiastically, says things like "Mmmm . . . you look beautiful in the morning," "Actually, I’m not sure which way to go. I’ll turn in here and ask for directions," and "You know, I think it’s really important that we talk about our relationship" -- all at the tug of a cord in his back.

He doesn't try to be a smooth, sensitive guy. He's actually quite a tough guy much of the time. Which, really, is much better than that stupid doll anyway . . . who would want a guy who's always asking if you want to go to the mall and buy new shoes?!