On This, The Day of My Wedding…

May 25, 2010

in How to be a Housewife

Two years ago today, the Big Man and I were getting busy… building an arch.  That’s right, preparations for our wedding involved carpentry.  And not the “nail the gauze to the door jamb” kind either.  Some girls show up to their wedding site with their dress, bouquet, and a pail full of makeup.  I?  Showed up with a hammer, nails, and a bag of Taco Bell.


But in case you are still wondering how the Domesticated Gal & her Banana Republic addiction ended up with the Big Man, aka Cheap Bastard, let’s take a look back at her previous options, shall we?








♥  First there was Blake.  Blake was the love of my life, my first soul mate.  He may even have been my first kiss, I don’t exactly remember.  He was sweet, charming, and had Great hair.  We held hands every day, and were inseparable at our Pre-School graduation.  Unfortunately, our love wasn’t strong enough to survive a long distance relationship when I moved to another state for Kindergarten.


I lived the wild single life until the summer after fifth grade, when I met Grant.  Ahh, summer love.  We were the nerds in the Summer Nature Camp (I know, you’re shocked!) and our relationship consisted primarily of trying to eat our lunch while holding hands, sitting together on the bus, holding hands, for our field trips, and him distracting the bullies from pushing me off a wall by jumping off it himself.  You know when a guy is willing to take a dive for you, its true love.  Truly, it was a magical week.  


But I’m not a girl to be tied down for long, so it was back to the single life for me.  At least until I met the twins.  M & E.  And no, I did not date them both.  But I might as well have.  It started how all great romantic comedies start: we all hung out together at lunch, E flirting with me, me flirting with M.  Until one day, M got up the courage to ask me out.  Squeeeal!  


Of course, I wasn’t actually allowed to date until I was 16.  So “going out” meant mostly sitting together at lunch.  And holding hands.  Which, apparently, was perfectly fine with M.  Who didn’t speak a single word to me after asking me out.  Apparently the power of his love struck him absolutely mute.


Fortunately, it took me a while to notice.  Mostly because I couldn’t tell the difference between M & E.  (We had a Deep, Deep connection – can’t you tell?)  I did finally clue in, which effectively ended that relationship a full 30days after it began.  I’m assuming he knows, since I haven’t heard from him (before or) since then….

♥  Now I’m not entirely sure R. counts, but in his mind he does.  You see, R. was a good friend my sophomore year in the lunch room (which seems to have figured prominently in my love life, come to think of it…).  Until he asked me out.  He was so sweet about it, and I so wanted a boyfriend.  Much like the pretty pretty purse, I was in search of the perfect accessary to have on my arm. And since I was unemployed at the time (huh…not much has changed in my life in a dozen years…), a boyfriend would have been a much cheaper option.  So my response?  “Let me think about it.”  


Which he did.  And unfortunately, since I truly saw him as a friend ONLY, I decided to beg my mother for an early birthday present rather than use him as arm candy.  Which I told him in the sweetest way possible (truly, no snark here).  His response?  To tell EVERYONE we were dating.  His proof?  That I had gone to the movies with him.  Which I had.  With him.  And his sister.  AND HIS MOTHER.  

The next year?  He came out.  Sadly, this was only to be the first time I’d become a gay man’s last attempt at the straight & narrow.


♥  After that, I dated T.  (Those of you who knew me in H.S. can stop snickering now.  Seriously.)  And while this relationship lasted no longer than the rest, it may go down as the Most embarrassing relationship EVER.


For one thing, T. was a HUGGER.  Not once in the month (two? I’m not sure, the PTSD blurs it out) that we dated did he ever kiss me.  But that does not mean my friends were spared some embarrassing PDAs.  I don’t know how, exactly, he managed it – but he could be ALL over me without ever letting his lips touch mine.  And while I don’t mind a little hand holding (obviously), I? Am NOT all about the PDA.

As if that weren’t bad enough, T. was also an extravagant liar.  Not that this became evident until my birthday (aka, the day I officially broke up with him…even though I didn’t tell Him that until a week later).  On my birthday, which also happened to be the last day of school, we had a picnic on my back porch with all my friends and family.   Again, thanks to the miracles of memory repression, I don’t quite remember all of what happened, but here are a few snippets:

My Oma:  Why don’t you have a seat?  There’s a chair open next to Meg…
T: Oh no, I can’t.  I have a rare blood disorder that prevents me from sitting.
(WTF??  HE SAT ALL THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL.  AND IN THE CAR RIDE TO MY HOUSE)
T: I have superior hearing.  I can hear the buzz from the computers in the school.
My Friend F:  Huh, must be pretty quiet.  Considering the school’s closed for the summer.

Yeah.  Needless to say, I dropped him faster than a slut on a dance floor after that.

♥  Then there was B.  (Yes, I was a busy little virgin in High School.)  He was not the first boyfriend my parents ever met, but he was the first to officially come pick me up on a date.  Fortunately for him, it was a double date – or we’d have never made it to the dance.


The evening of my Senior homecoming, B. showed up at my door in his freshly-pressed suit with the requisite carnation corsage to pick me up for our first “official” date.  And although I’m already.  And have been ready for the past 20 minutes (not that he was late, I’m just not high maintenance enough to spend more than 10min. on my makeup), my mother insists that I wait upstairs and let my father open the door.

Surprisingly, neither of us saw the next part coming.

My father, the retired military man opens the door to see B. standing on his front stoop.  And while B. is, as he loved to remind me, a Southern Gentleman, he was also a bit…scrawny.  (As were all the guys I actually dated back then.  I hadn’t yet learned the ego boost of dating a man I couldn’t pick up.)  My father?  Is not a scrawny man.  And although he knows perfectly well who B. is and why is here, all he does is stand there.  Staring down at him.  Waiting.  I’m fairly certain if he’d owned a shotgun, he’d have been cleaning it as he stood there.

B:  Hi Mr. S——-!
My Father:  Hello.
B:  Um, I’m here…to, um, pick up Meg?  For the Dance?
My Father (still not moving out of the doorway): Uhuh.

Fortunately for us, my best friend Shibahn (my double date/ride for the night) then popped out behind B. and sang out a cheery hello to my father.  Who just as cheerily greeted her and asked her in.  B?  Just made it inside the foyer before the door shut.

Fortunately for all involved, that relationship flamed out a few months later.  Before anyone was shot.

♥  And speaking of flaming, that brings us to my last boyfriend.  F.  He was my best friend all through high school.  The one who held my hand through the rest of my break ups (see, I’m a sucker for hand holding) and laughed at all my jokes.  Obviously, I had a crush on him the Entire time.  But, it being High School, he had to date all of my other friends first, before I finally bullied him into taking me to our Senior prom.


Of course, the entire group had placed bets on how long it would take us to officially “hook up” (i.e. start dating – H.S virgin standards, people!)  And for once I won’t have to fudge this part in the eventual movie of my life – we made it official the night of prom.  I believe while dancing to the song “Baby Got Back.”  (Isn’t that what every girl dreams of?)

What Nobody bet on was the fact that a month later, F. would take a band trip to Europe.  And come back Gay.  (Of course his taste for silky shirts with velvet flames on them Should have been a clue.)  And while I haven’t quite forgiven him for breaking the news/breaking up with me over Instant Messenger, he is still one of my best friends.  

And his husband is my culinary idol.

———————————————-

And for those of you wondering, the Big Man is neither a liar, nor a hugger, scrawny, nor gay.  He is also not a hand holder.  

But he does have a fantastic head of hair.

{ 6 comments }

Erin I'm Gonna Kill Him May 26, 2010 at 9:30 pm

Jesus, you must have callouses from all that hand holding. I love that T was not a kisser and a liar. Sounds like Richard Gere with his "I don't kiss on the mouth" policy…did he happen to be a millionaire? Because then I think you should have gotten over that whole blood disorder thing.

Joann Mannix May 26, 2010 at 6:52 pm

Love your boyfriend history. I have a long and sordid one, myself, including the time I dated 2 brothers at the same time. One of them knew about it. The other didn't. It was the days my moral compass wasn't sure which way it was going.

Kristin May 26, 2010 at 12:34 pm

Oooh, I too had a pre-school boyfriend. But then, I went to kindergarten and he went straight into first grade, and we had a very intense meeting on the playground after a few days where he told me very seriously that he was in first grade now, and he had to start acting like it. Which meant, he could NOT be seen dating a kindergartener. I'm still not over it.

Happy anniversary! SEND ME YOUR INTERVIEW STORY!

FertKiki May 25, 2010 at 8:24 pm

1. I am so glad that flaming silk shirt (har) has "mysteriously disappeared".

2. Bad F.! No more AIM for you!

3. Thanks for the compliment 😀

4. Lists are fun.

Poppy May 25, 2010 at 6:13 pm

What a delicious post and I love that "F" is waiting for you to turn your husband over to his team.

jss May 25, 2010 at 5:55 pm

LOVE this. Totally makes me want to relive the ridiculousness of all my past relationships.

Oooor, maybe not…

Happy Anniversary!

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