My hero does not have wings, does not come from another planet or have a gazillion dollars. He doesn't sparkle, doesn't have spidey senses or is considered a mutant. He's a romantic but not in the googly eyed romance book cheesy way. He's still a guy's guy, but will always be my knight in shining armor.
My hero is my hero because he thinks the way I do, likes the same kind of music, books and food. He likes to quote movies, books and comics and shares the hidden meanings of triple play and high five days with me. He understands my obscure references and knows when I need chocolate before I start craving it.
My hero saved me from being fifty shades of fucked up, thought that I was beautiful at 60-some odd pounds as well as now... just a few pounds heavier (like 100). I don't care that there are more people that would think I'm not pretty or kinda plain and ugly - it doesn't matter because my hero makes me feel like I'm much more than that. My hero is the most handsome man in the world in my eyes and I guess that is all that matters.
My hero knows I'm kinda messy and leave all of my yarn and bead projects scattered around the house. He knows that I can't stand cooking and get grossed out when I have to touch raw meat. He willingly gave up eating bacon for years because he knows that I can't handle the smell when it's cooking. What kind of guy will do that!
My hero takes care of me by doing the laundry, cleaning the kitchen and taking care of our son. He's a 'mini van' dad without the van, helps with homework and does bedtime stories. He picks up toys because one thing where my son and I are alike is that we love to scatter ourselves all over the house!
My hero is a writer but gave it up to take care of us when I couldn't work. He takes of me when I get sick or is just there to comfort me when the pain gets really bad. He goes downstairs to get me a drink of water when I wake up thirsty in the middle of the night, or kills the bugs that gross me out.
My hero has learned to sleep on a sliver of the bed because I hog the bed while he hogs the blankets and I look for him in my sleep to warm up (only because he loves to sleep with the fan on all year long). He has learned to cook Chinese food and do the laundry when I went back to work. He changed as many diapers as I did and would have gone through labor for me if it were possible.
My hero is a dad and has had just as many sleep deprived nights as I did when our son was an infant. He learned to feed and bath our baby at the same time I did. He walked the miles and miles from one of the the house to the other trying to get a colicky baby to sleep when I could no longer keep my eyes open.
My hero watches cartoons with our boy and picks him up from the bus stop. He makes his breakfast and packs his lunch. He would pack my lunch if he could get himself up early enough, but that's okay. I prefer to pack my own lunch anyway, so no complaints from me.
My hero endures my strange taste in paranormal or 'ghosty' TV shows and usually makes 'football food' worth the 6 months of NFL torture. My hero trusts me and supports me even though I can't write as well as he does, he still encourages my scattered ramblings.
My hero loves me and I love him. Even though I know he wishes he had all of those hero powers, he will always have something way better instead - and though it's cheesy and romance novel-like, there really isn't any other way to say... but he has the awesome power of love and 20 years of marriage today to prove it. :-)