Normally, there would be a random rambling about bizarre cupid-sex. However, today – I’m feeling a bit more like talking about how lucky I am. This is my moment where I randomly shed a bit more light on my personal life and don’t do the random sexual innuendos every five seconds…
It was back in ’97 that originally I met a guy who drove up to go out on a date with me from about an hour and a half away. It was the weekend after Valentine’s day, and I still remember standing out by my car with him prior to heading out to see ‘Dark City’ and how nervous I was back then. He asked me what I was thinking about, and pretty much all I could do was kick around a bit of dirt and say “woodchips”. It was awkward, because we were BOTH awkward back in those days.
Within 3 dates, we had already started talking about what kind of a dream-home we would make together (if we were both suddenly independantly wealthy) – and things just went from there. We’ve had our ups and downs, just like any couple out there. But it’s always amazed me how other couple’s talk about how long the “honeymoon period” lasted… A year? Two years? It all just seems bizarre – because honestly, it’s been 13 years and I don’t know anything but the feeling I had from the first day until now. Amazing – but maybe we’re just the lucky ones, eh?
My man was with me for the entirety of my transformation from some shy, little, goth caterpillar to the outgoing, sexually-perverted, freakish butterfly that I’ve become. Seriously – for those of you out there who have talked to me online or even know me in person – I know I totally seem like a “catch” (cough cough), but it takes a certain type of person to put up with the amount of crazy that I can add to any given day, and to ignore the irratic behavior as my ADD drives my gnat-like attention span around the room in record speeds. And that’s why I’m a lucky bastard – because it takes a Saint and I gots me one.
Mike: I love you to death, and always will. And by “to death” I mean I would totally kill for you. Anyone, anytime. Just please don’t ask me to do that… because I don’t think my soft little self could handle prison. I’ve seen the Shawshank Redemption. Could you see me trying to break out of there? I would never have made it through the poo-pipes.
Love ya, hon – and extreme ‘likes’ to everyone else!