I wish I had his turn of phrase

... but unfortunately, I'm not a skilled language artist like Patrick Rothfuss. So, I'll just shamelessly copy and paste from him. Valentines Day brought out the "gush" in him, and his girlfriend Sarah is the recipient of some very public praise and flattery. The whole thing is good, and I'm shamelessly (did I mention I'm shameless in doing this) cribbing his words. (Italics are my adjustments to make it fit.)

No offense to your girlfriend SAM. She's obviously a woman of impeccable taste. But she can't hold a candle to my wife.

My wife's name is C. She is, to put it plainly, the best of all possible wives.

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. She's hella smart, a great writer, and better at everything than me. She does community service, keeps up on current events, and makes awesome meals. Her hair smells really, really, good.

C is also hot. Beyond hot. I'm not even kidding here. You know when you see a geeky guy walking around an absolute bombshell and you think, "The hell? How did he end up with her? She's a thousand times hotter than him!" Well C and I are like that, with the main difference that I'm pretty sexy too.

She's so sexy that Homeland Security is worried about her falling into the hands of the terrorists. FEMA has passed a special set of laws requiring her to always wear at least three layers of clothing whenever she's in public. If she wears only one layer, she causes car wrecks. If she wears a tank top, men without protective eyewear have grand-mal seizures and passing women become suddenly bi-curious.

In less, the sexiness she throws off is like the radiation from a nuclear bomb. If we hadn't lined the walls of the bedroom and bathroom with three inches of lead, no man in Northern Virginia could wear tight fitting pants, and every woman in Leesburg would be gay.

Yes dearest, you're all that and much, much more!