…I'm going to share a story that Himself finds horribly embarrassing. And he's just going to have to live with it, because this is the story of how i found out just how good a person he is and, ultimately, it's why I married him.
Way back, when we'd just barely begun dating and we were still in the dual depths of infatuation and the sheer novelty of snogging, I asked Himself if he thought I was beautiful.
Poor man. I could see him struggling with this ultimate of relationship Kobayashi Marus. But even to preserve snogging privileges, he couldn't lie to me. Eventually he came up with “I think you're cute,” a response he knew as he spoke it that it was insufficient. It was clear, painfully so, that he didn't think I was beautiful.
And that hurt horribly. It still does, although at least part of that is shame at asking that question of him at all. But there were two other things that were equally obvious.
The first was that he really couldn't lie to me. Not to spare me pain, not out of some devious male self interest, not even out of simple self preservation. Even in the middle of my hurt feelings, I knew how rare this was, and couldn't be angry with him. After all, he only told me what I already knew.
The second was that he clearly loved me anyway. (Frankly, this had been clear to a lot of people for months.) Whether he thought I was beautiful was entirely irrelevant.
To get mad at him over being honest in a discussion that I started would have been entirely unfair. So I married him instead. He is, after all, a much better man than I deserve.