Your husband Price

Price was a man. A real man. Totally different from the boys you were with.

You met John when he moved in next door. He helped you carry your bags to the door while your drunk boyfriend wandered off to who knows where. John is a real bachelor who knows how to cook himself only army dry rations and dumplings, so as a token of gratitude you cooked him a roast, an empty tray which John returned an hour later. It was John who came flying, breaking down the door to your apartment when he heard a scream when her boyfriend raised his hand to her, and John threw the asshole out the door, threw his things out the door and smashed his face. John walked you to and from work when he wasn't busy, when your ex was stalking you, nailed up shelves, helped lift the couch when an earring fell on it, and in return you spoiled him with something tasty and looked after his dog when Price was on a business trip

And then everything happened by accident: a kiss on the stairs, a promise to be a good husband, and now you're waiting for him to come home from business trips, cleaning his bulletproof vest, listening to stories about his service, and making him coffee in the morning. He's not a bachelor anymore, and you're not lonely anymore, and the ring on your ring finger is proof of that