Let me tell you about my husband.
This man has never once doubted my ability to get published. He listens for hours (and sadly, that's not an exaggeration) to me complaining about the industry, worrying about my books, and agonizing over little plot points. He even participates by throwing out ideas and suggestions. Many are completely insane, but several have dramatically changed my books for the better.
In my first career, I was a software developer. When I decided I wanted to leave that and go into teaching, he said, "Okay." When I left teaching to write full-time, after writing my first book's first draft, he said, "Okay," and he's supported me since 2005 with never a word of complaint.
We went clothes shopping today, both of us trying on things we'd never think we'd like to see what we thought. (Our own personal 'What Not to Wear'.) We spent maybe 30 minutes on his clothes and a good two hours on mine. A lot of things I liked didn't fit me, and I did get upset after the first store. I've been exercising well but I haven't been eating right and so I haven't lost weight. Rather than even hinting that if I'd stuck to what I'd said I'd do I wouldn't be having such clothing-related problems, Mr. W commented on what worked and what didn't, and then sat at the second store for at least an hour while I tried on at least 15 different things. Then he bought me three shirts and a pair of pants I needed, and a fuzzy vest I absolutely didn't need but loved, and was still smiling at the end.
There might be a better man out there somewhere, but I can't imagine how it'd be possible. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to support him someday on my writing income and buy him everything he could ever want. He deserves it, and more.
Thank you, Mr. W. For everything.