What Kind Of A Guy?

Let me set the scene:
My house smelled like pee (Belle!!!). I felt fat. I was tired. I had blood running down my face because Belle mistook my nose for a chew toy. And I missed Memphis terribly.

Enter Andrew…
Poor guy never had a chance. He came at the wrong time. Mt. Kim had officially erupted. I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say that I used him as a punching bag. And my baby is no pushover. He doesn’t let me go off on him without speaking up for himself. But this time, he was silent. He said nothing. He cleaned the blood off my face and sat quietly on my couch. Meanwhile I went upstairs and cried in the closet. He didn’t shout anything at me. He didn’t even turn on the TV. He gave me quiet time. A few minutes later I heard him come up the stairs. He didn’t open the door to my safe place (probably because he was afraid he would get a stiletto in the eye). He didn’t scream a few things back at me (which I so deserved). He sat on my bed and played “Don’t Think I Can’t Love You” on his IPhone: So girl, I can't buy you a big diamond ring. No house on a hill full of life's finer things. And I'll tell you right now there's a whole lot that I just can't do. Oh, but baby, don't think I can't love you.

When I came out of the closet he told me to get dressed. He had fed the dogs and wanted to take me out. He held my hand while walking to the car. (He never holds my hand in the complex because technically he is at work). But he knew I needed it. And when he grabbed my hand I knew his intention. I can’t remember what we did for the next few hours, and it doesn’t really matter. All I know is I came back to my apartment happy. Did it still smell like pee? Yes. Did I still miss Memphis? Yes. But I didn’t care because I felt loved. And nothing….not a bad day, a huge cut under my eye (thanks Belle), a pee-smelling apartment…..nothing could shake me after that. Because he loved me to the core and that’s exactly what I needed.

WHAT KIND OF A GUY DOES THAT??? What kind of a guy lets you use them as a punching bag because they know deep down you may break if they put you in your place? When you’re clearly in the wrong, what kind of a guy says nothing when you attack them the moment they walk in the door? What kind of a guy shows you affection when you show him anger? What kind of a guy takes time to read your soul? What kind of a guy gives you time to cry without offering words you don’t want to hear right away? Maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Because obviously I know what kind of a guy does all these things. The question I need to be asking is why on God’s green earth would God bless the mess out of me by giving me this kind of a guy?