I don't know exactly how it happened. We were friends for a while - she's my best friend's younger sister - and we always got along well. We would go out and do things; nothing romantic at first, just platonic dinners or the occasional movie. When her a-hole high school sweetheart broke up with her, I got the obligatory Friend Phone Call. It was during deadline night at The Hawk - my university newspaper - and as Editor-in-Chief, I was swamped. I listened to her anyway: I'm good like that.
After I graduated, Fish and I would occasionally visit her at West Chester University, and sometime in November of 1992, we found ourselves kissing each other after a movie. (Me and the missus, not me and Fish. Although, Fish is a handsome man . . . .) I would love to say we saw something like Unforgiven, but it was probably a chick flick, like Forever Young. After we informed Fish - we got him drunk first - and made sure he wouldn't murder me, we were in the clear.
We had our ups and downs. What couple doesn't? We broke up about a year before we were engaged (my fault), but that was the only real calamity we've suffered since 1992. We rarely argue, we sometimes disagree, and we always work through it.
Our blessing is also our curse: since we were friends for years before we started dating, she knows all of my tricks, and I know all of hers. We can't get over on one another, so we don't try. If I am going to do something she may not approve of (read: bachelor parties at the nudie bar), I don't lie. Why would I? She knows me.
Of course, being married, we sometimes get in our little digs at each other. Before I go out with my friends, she reminds me of the time I parked the car on the lawn. She gives me the same speech every night before she goes to bed, "Don't stay up too late," when she knows I'm not coming to bed until 2am. And she tells me on a weekly basis that she's like to see me give up the blog. "I see how you get with it, and it's not worth all of the stress it gives you."
And once in a while, I remind her how she lost my high school class ring . . . And that's right about the time that I get slapped. Heh.
In some circles, men say that marriage is the bane of life's existence. It's fashionable to complain about the wife, and fantasize about "all the babes I'd be getting" if the man was a bachelor. Being an ugly, fat guy, I rarely do this, if only because I remember how many "chicks I scored with in college" . . . very few.
When these discussions come up, I take the road less traveled. My wife is attractive and intelligent. My wife sees something in me that most women don't. Honestly, this blog is my perfect doppleganger. Ask Deathlok or Captain America: I am exactly the same sarcastic wiseass in person that I am here, and truthfully, I'm not that lovable.
Simply stated, my wife puts up with all of my crap. And I love her for it.
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