You know you have a really sweet boyfirend when he says he made plans for our Saturday night and he'll pick me up at 4. We went to the lake and ate dinner (amazing dinner, I might add - we split the best crab cakes I've ever had along with a burger that might fit into the same category). We wandered in and out of the shops, stopping for an ice cream cone before walking down to the lake to watch the sunset. Ahhhh...so sweet.
The evening was perfect.
But that's not what makes my boyfriend so sweet.
Leaving the lake, I suggest we put the top on the Jeep part way down. It's a gorgeous night, not a cloud in the sky, and I can think of nothing better than spending the half hour ride home, stargazing and enjoying the summer evening. WG indulged me and we had the top back and were on our way.
Sweet man, indeed.
But that's still not what was truly sweet.
It was about ten miles down the road, when I have put my sweater on, and tucked my bare legs underneath me, and crossed my arms in an effort to keep warm, that my beyond-sweet boyfriend, without saying a word, simply reaches over and turns on the heat.
Now that, my dear friends, is a sweet, sweet man indeed.