Wednesdays are for lovers

There are several different kinds of men in this world. There are tall ones and short ones, thin ones and fat ones, sexy ones and strange ones, ambitious ones and lazy ones, smart ones and dumb ones, redheaded ones and blond ones, indie ones and frat ones, and then there are The ones. The ones who figure out where their girlfriends' God-forsaken 8A.M. History of English class is just so that they can be standing outside afterward to completely catch their girls off-guard. They are the ones who wake up three hours early just to surprise their girlfriends with a sentimental card and a trip to the Starbucks across the street. They are the ones who give their girlfriends the most cinnamon-y bites of their cinnamon swirl coffee cake. They are the ones who see a cancelled morning class not as chance for a little extra sleep or a pre-game episode of Lost, but as an opportunity to spend the morning with their pale-faced, bleary-eyed, ratty-haired girlfriends. I know a man like this, and I'm amazed to call him My Beau.