Ode to Paul and Marmite

When I was younger and starting to date,
I wondered at how I would pick a soulmate.
And so in my folly I wrote up a list,
Of judging requirements before he'd be kissed.
The list wasn't weighty, the list wasn't long,
One qualification yet narrowed the throng:
He must eat Marmite and he must like it too!*
This dwindled my choices to only a few.
In fact my selection was totalled to zero.
Would no one arise as my brave, Marmite hero?
And then there came one on his toyota steed,
who entered our kitchen with ravenous speed.
I marshalled some toast and a Marmite deployment,
And in awe watched him eat it in raptured enjoyment!
As soon as he'd finished, the deed had been done.
He'd eaten the Marmite. So my heart was won.

*Disclaimer: Paul doesn't actually love Marmite. In fact, I believe I've heard him state before that he "wouldn't walk across the street for it. Still, I remember being impressed at his ability to eat it despite this fact, and I still love him anyway.