Wow. Well hello, internet. It’s been awhile.
Holy crap, y’all, to say it's been a crazy ASS month is totally understating it. I’m really excited to tell you all about it over the course of a couple of posts. So, STAY TUNED FOR THAT (you three readers, you).
But first (first!), I must take a moment to say that on this day, 6 years ago, I went on my very first date with this stud muffin:
Because it was Cinco de Mayo, we took in some Mexican at a restaurant that no longer exists in Anchorage (*sad trombone sound*) and then hit up some reggae (if you know Paul, no big surprise there).
I was totes nervous about this date because when I first met Paul I thought he was a prude. By that I mean I not only thought he wouldn't put out, but I thought he was just, you know, too cool for school.
You see, it was springtime in Alaska, and that’s when everyone comes out of the woodwork. It might only be 40 degrees outside, but by golly, those Alaskans are sitting on the damn patio and LOVING it. WHY? Because over the winter all Alaskans begin to look like a Twilight character, minus the sparkle and marbled body. Well, everyone except Paul, that is. He’s brown all year round.
AND, while everyone else was hugging a tree and pointing their head to the sun, Paul was huddled in a corner, beanie on his head, arms crossed in front of him in a jacket that said “Coach Kongaika” and I was all, “Ohhh, he’s one of those.” By “one of those” I mean a cocky football coach who is just too studly for English teachers.
Turns out he was just freezing his ass off because he’d just shaved his head for the first time (from a head of beautiful hair that went half way down his back). That, and apparently he's just quiet by nature. WHO KNEW!?!
Anyway, I thought for sure we’d have nothing to talk about, so I’m confident that I talked nervously throughout the whole date. But either way, he still continued to like me, so GAME ON!
And I discovered he could dance! Bonus!
And then he discovered that I could NOT dance! Fail.
That might have almost been deal breaker for him. He's even tried to help me:
But there's no helping that. One time he was even all, "Maybe if you just move a little bit LESS while we're dancing."
But what do you know, he married me anyway.
Deep down inside I had this planned all along. This bad dancer thing was just to make him think he could "fix" me.
This is our year, baby. Love you big.