imprinting

My husband and I spent a while talking a few days ago about what happens when someone is poisonous and prickly to hide a soft gooey center. Sometimes I feel like I'm the opposite of that, and almost all of the time I don't know how tell. I struggle sometimes with being able to identify others' anxieties and faux-courage because I get stuck looking at my own. How do you get better at not giving up on someone who requires you to have a thick skin so you're there long enough to get past their own thick skin?

He also startled me by telling (or reminding) me just who he was when we first started dating, and telling me what it meant to him that I was me. I think we can chalk our entire contented and companionable and hilarious relationship to the weird combination of the people we were five years ago. He was a blank slate, not afraid of making mistakes by trying any- and every way he could think of to care for me and love me, and I was a student of my father's school of positive reinforcement. He was receptive and flexible, I was full of feedback, and lo, I managed to Dr Frankenstein an ideal husband. Sometimes I wonder what he gets out of the deal, but then I remember that what he wants is someone soft and warm (on the outside anyway) to love, and here I am. He wanted someone to nurture and support him, and I do. That is the simplest simplest way to say what we are, because there is more there--equivalent nerdery, enthusiasm, tastes, and physical and mental compatibility--to bolster the tabula rasa/firm stamp theory. Plus, as this is an appropriate global time to mention, I'm totally into guys who look like soccer players, and S has the tall, lean, muscley legged, great assed futbol look.

Is this weird? We're probably not as unique as I think we are. That's ok, too.