He is amazed by Billy Joel, wakes up at 4 AM to play piano, and is lost without his daily cup of joe. He has darkish, shaggy curly hair and insanely blue eyes. He�s beautiful � not just because he looks the part � but because he�s totally genuine. He love God and his life is a true testament to that fact. He has great smile lines � probably from the great amount of smiling he does. He has freckles. � Not the kind of freckles your little sister has � I�m talking the kind of freckle that are totally random and the dark kind that are smattered against his neck and shoulders and arms and back. He doesn�t have perfect teeth, but he does have really good dental hygiene. He�s an absolute dork and doesn�t care who knows, he loves kids and I know he�s gonna� be a super daddy. He is loud without being obnoxious, thinks kissing is a lost art form, and doodles images and poetry on any piece of paper he can find at any given moment. He plays with my hair and truly believes I�m the most beautiful woman he�s ever seen, even though I don�t see how. He takes me to the park and reads to me while we�re sitting under a tree with my head resting in his lap. He is a meat and potatoes kind of guy. He knows what he ants but doesn�t close himself off. He is faithful and trustworthy and honest and tender. He spends quality time with his mom and sisters. He�s the only person I know personally (besides myself and my brother) who needs music in order to breathe. He wears boxer briefs, drives an old SUV, and brought me chicken soup when our 5th date got canceled due to me getting the flu. He tries new things, listens to me, and knows he can trust me with baring his feelings. He leads with his soul, dances in the aisles with me at concerts and doesn�t mind if I burp out loud when we�re hangin� out. He doesn�t put the moves on me in front of people purposely for show, believes in himself and is not the kind of man to kiss and tell. He let me hold him while he cried when his dog died, is cool with us making fun of each other and doesn�t treat me differently in front of his friends. He plays Mario Kart with me on Super Nintendo � even though he�d rather be playing his Playstation. He dug out all of his home videos and photo albums to show to me just because he knows I love that stuff. He calls me just to hear my voice, was never obsessive or clingy, and wears button down shirts a lot just because he knows I think they�re sexy. He gave me a fairy tale when he threw rocks at my window in the middle of the night so he could play and sing me a love song on his guitar. He honestly attempts to dance with me when we go out into clubs. He wears beat up vans I found at a thrift store, thinks I�m cute with my glasses on and breaks out into song when someone says something that reminds him of a lyric. He listens to the Beach Boys with me on our road trips � with the windows rolled down � even though other drivers can hear. He�s totally animated, video tapes the dumbest things and watches ballgames with my dad. He let me take him fishing and mushroom hunting. He sleeps with the fan on in the dead of winter, can�t sleep with music on and wants me to wear his ring around my neck. He�s charming, incredibly smart, and winks at me when he thinks no one is looking. He lets me pay for dates sometimes, tries to help me hone up my soccer skills, and wears a cow shell necklace. He�s not overly short or tall, isn�t overly thin or pudgy and isn�t overly muscular. He wakes me up when it starts snowing to make a fire and hot chocolate. He watches the sun rise and set, knows the glass is half full, and chews on his bottom lip. He�s the boy next door. He gives me homemade birthday presents, starts food fights and isn�t intimidated by the fact I have 6 brothers and sisters. He takes naps, loves feather pillows, and loves to cuddle. He has poet, musician, and philosopher written all over him. He smells really good. He hates onions. He lets me wrestle with him, is absolutely hilarious and gets my sense of humor. He does Kermit the Frog for me, owns plaid pants, and thinks Brittney Spears is gross. He likes Hanson, went with me to meet them, and gives great backrubs. He�s a total romantic without being a fool and knows the meaning of heartbreak. He loves McDonald�s French fries, wants to learn to surf with me, and gets the most adorable sunburn at the top of his cheeks. He went with me to Nowheresville Oklahoma so we could take pictures of us kissing at the Kissing S Ranch. He gives me piggyback rides, would never bleach his hair and makes incredible alfredo. He took me to the symphony, a jazz club and took swing dancing lessons with me. He is absolutely adorable in suspenders. He prefers Coke over Pepsi, has ticket stubs from concerts on his walls, and owns a huge Spin Doctors poster. He lights candles and takes baths occasionally instead of showers. He has beautiful hands with long strong fingers. He talks to people in the cars in front of him. He does Chinese Fire Drills and has a bumper sticker that says, �If you get any closer, I�ll flick a booger on your windshield.� He wasn�t particularly cool in high school. He�s a peacekeeper, daydreamer and tells it like it is. He doesn�t have facial hair, but has the sexiest stubble when he doesn�t shave. He�s totally scatterbrained, runs as late as I do and always misplaces his shoes. He wears vintage t shirts and jeans with holes in the knees. He is as random as I am.