I am rapidly approaching my 15th anniversary with the big hairy man. This year will mark the 15th anniversary of first dates, first kisses, engagement, and marriage. If you want the whole back story, let me sum up: I am insane. I met a great guy and got engaged to him 3 weeks later. Yes, you read that right. Three short weeks. This means a couple of things: first, I was clinically insane when I was in my 20's, and second, if one of my daughters bring home some hairy biker dude after three weeks of dating and announces her engagement, I can't tell her how monumentally stupid that is because all she has to do is point at me and say, "hey, it worked for you."
So, yes, somehow we make it work and we are celebrating this 15th year together by acting more and more like each other. It's a little scary, actually, because who wants to act more like a man who is the size of an NFL linebacker but giggles like a school girl every time he rips one?
I realized we have reached the pinnacle of scary similarity this afternoon. The big hairy man probably would have married work instead of me if it were more emotionally available, so it surprised me that he took a few days off this week...just because. It took some time to convince me that no one was dead, and he really did just want a couple of days off. He is doing mundane things around the house with me, and today our adventure was...GROCERY SHOPPING. On our way out, a guy on a Harley called out to us as we crossed the parking lot, to kindly let us know that our package of toilet paper had tumbled from the bottom of the cart and lay in the middle of the road. At the same time we both yelled out, "Flying toilet paper!"
Pretty sure this is me rubbing off on him. If he starts complaining that I like to dutch oven him, you'll know he has finally rubbed off on me.