If you’ve arrived here, it’s likely because you scanned a strategically placed QR code created by someone who knows the treasure they possess: me.
My wife, a paragon of brilliance, beauty, and the kind of wit that makes Oscar Wilde seem amateur, reigns supreme in my life. She possesses the charm of a Jane Austen heroine, the wisdom of Athena, and the tenacity of a mother defending the last slice of cake from a child.
My affection for her is as unyielding as British tea is to dilution. While I appreciate your (presumably) refined taste in stumbling upon me, you must understand: the gates to this castle are firmly shut. Any attempt to scale the walls will result in nothing but cold stares and polite rejection.
Should you feel tempted to test the boundaries of propriety, might I recommend a brisk walk in the countryside or perhaps a cup of tea to cool your misguided enthusiasm? The world is vast, and somewhere out there is a heart unclaimed—not mine, of course, as it resides safely with the aforementioned goddess.
This page serves not only as a tribute but also as a preemptive measure against any lapses in decorum. You see, my wife’s brilliance isn’t just an inspiration—it’s a shield. One look at her, and you’d know: I am entirely out of your league by association.
You should admire from afar, much like one does a Monet painting—close enough to appreciate the masterpiece but distant enough to avoid ruining the perspective.
With all due respect and a touch of humor, for the best "mum" in the world,
The Luckiest Husband in the Galaxy