This just has come to my attention. I am not really a Broadway musical type of person, but this sort of describes me. The song is called “Bill” from _Showboat_ (Music/Lyrics: Rogers and Hammerstein, 1927):

bq. I used to dream that I would discover
The perfect lover someday.
I knew I’d recognize him if ever
He came ’round my way.
I always used to fancy then
He’d be one of the god-like kind of men,
With a giant brain and a noble head,
Like the heroes bold
In the books I’ve read.
But along came Bill, who’s not the type at all.
You’d meet him on the street and never notice him.
His form, his face, his manly grace
Are not the kind that you would find in a statue.
And I can’t explain–
It’s surely not his brain that makes me thrill.
I love him because, he’s wonderful
Because he’s just my Bill.

bq. He can’t play golf or tennis or polo,
Or sing a solo, or row.
He isn’t half as handsome
As dozens of men I know.
He isn’t tall or straight or slim,
And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim.
And I can’t explain whey he should be
Just the one, one, man in the world for me.
He’s just my Bill, and ordinary guy.
He hasn’t got a thing that I can brag about
And yet to be, upon his knee,
So comfy and roomy
Seems natural to me.
And I can’t explain–
It’s surely not his brain
That makes me thrill.
I love him because, he’s –I don’t know —
Because he’s just my Bill.