Man of my dreams, or, Ddyn chan 'm breuddwydion

So I have finally met the man of my dreams. I know what you're thinking: you could have sworn there was either a monastary or a couple dozen cats in my future. And I didn't so much as meet him but see him on a big screen with several other people. Be that as it may, I will say it again: I have finally met the man of my dreams: Ioan Gruffudd.

Let's go through his finer points, shall we?
--Gorgeous.
--Dark hair. (I went through a phase recently where I departed from my Guy Standard and was attracted to fair-haired, blue eyed cherubs. But now I'm back to my roots.)
--He's Welsh (With a last name that has more f's and d's than vowels, he has to be. Plus it is close enough to Scotland)
--Gorgeous (This really does bear repeating).
--And really, he hasn't been in a show that I didn't like (I vaguely remember him in Titanic, so that doesn't count).