A Story of Pure Romance

July 20, 2010

in After The Honeymoon, How to be a Housewife, OldSchool

Once upon a time (about 2.5 years ago) in a town far far away from here in a mythical land of trees, mountains, and wineries, the Big Man took me out to Ye Olde Towne Manassas.

We strolled along the brick paved sidewalks, my freshly manicured hand clutching his muscled arm a little tighter each time my oh-so-cute heel caught itself on the lip of yet another brick red…well, brick.  We were searching for a special store.  One he had visited three years previously, but couldn’t seem to find hidden among the quaint store fronts.  After wandering in our third tiny shop stuffed with LOL Catz coasters and wine paraphernalia, we finally asked for directions.

An hour later, we finally found our destination.  One block from where we’d parked the car.

It was a small, family-run jewelry business where the Big Man had previously bought my engagement ring.  We were there to purchase our wedding bands.  The symbols of our eternal commitment to each other.

And after carefully selecting the bands that would grace our my finger for the rest of our lives (the Big Man’s is spending the rest our lives in its box in the back of his underwear drawer), we strolled down the block.

To Ye Olde Gun Shoppe.

Apparently, the Big Man had planned to surprise me not only with a philly cheesesteak at the local pub and the purchase of our wedding bands, but also with the purchase of my very first handgun.

And I?  Was surprisingly digging it.  I mean, it played right into my not-so-secret obsession with Alias.

Needless to say, every man in the store?  Was Completely envious of him.

(Until they thought a bit harder.  And realized that a pissed off wife?  Is much easier to deal with than a pissed off wife with a handgun.)


After that, we spent a few hours every week at the shooting range – the Big Man standing well out of range while I learned how not to shoot someone unintentionally.

And I?  Was surprisingly not sucking at it.  Had I had a father who disguised spy training as fun family games and trained me in lethal methods of gun use from the age of 5?  I could TOTALLY have taken Sydney.

(Did I mention I may or may not fantasize about being Sydney’s sidekick?)


Unfortunately, my recent bout with unemployment killed not only my “Super” status with Banana Republic, but also our budget for bullets.

Which, sadly, means that my alternate career path as Agent X?  Will have to wait.

For now.

{ 2 comments }

Domesticated Gal July 20, 2010 at 1:42 pm

I actually Loved it – rather cathartic, and slightly cheaper than real therapy. I think I liked the outdoor ranges better though – not so much ringing in the ears when the noise can echo off of the nearest tree rather than my brain.

The Empress July 20, 2010 at 1:34 pm

I seriously have always wanted to go to a shooting range. did you like it??

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