You Are So Beautiful To Me...

I think I'm about to become one of the bloggers who annoy me. Usually, it drives me crazy when I read other women bragging about how handsome their mates are, because, let's face it, perceived attractiveness is a very subjective thing. Sorry to anyone who's blog I read, but no, I don't think your significant other is the sexiest man ever, in fact, I don't really find him attractive in the slightest. I'm happy for you though.

Lately, however, I've come to at least understand where the bragging impulse comes from. Every time I look at Justin, whatever he's doing, whether he's aware that I'm looking at him or not, I think to myself, "Damn, he is hot!" I've always thought that Justin is the most attractive man I've dated, but I swear I think he gets a little more handsome every time I see him.

Psychologists have a term for this: the mere exposure effect. Humans, it turns out, learn to enjoy a stimulus more the more they are exposed to it. This effect is wide-ranging across all aspects of human behavior, but it also applies to faces, and partially explains the popularity of celebrities and the effective use of their image in marketing campaigns. Hence, you think your significant other is the hottest man you've ever laid eyes upon because you lay eyes upon him all the time.

So, in light of that little discussion, consider this a rhetorical question, as I don't expect you to agree with me per se: Is this not the sexiest thing you've ever seen?

Honestly, what is more enticing in the morning than the sight of the man you love, making you breakfast?

I've written before about my fondness for the weekend mornings I spend with my beloved, and today was no different. Justin and I made a last minute decision to make waffles from scratch as a change of pace, and I gave him more of an assist than usual by whipping egg whites for the batter. Although our hasty recipe selection turned out to be less than stellar, and was written in a complicated way that resulted in my accidentally leaving out an egg, the waffles weren't a complete disaster. In fact, they came out of the waffle iron perfectly golden brown and crisp, even if they were somewhat bland.

They were enough of a success that I was motivated to do some research in the food blogosphere and find a couple other recipes to try in the future that have been thoroughly vetted by cooks with more waffle-making prowess than I. Until then, I will continue to revel in the sight of my devastatingly handsome boyfriend making me a slew of delicious breakfasts, and contemplate how I ever got so lucky to have him in my life.

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