Category Archives: Boyfriend of the Year

While working on some wedding stuff (it never ends), Matt and I start watching some old episodes of 24, a series that is much too intense for my feeble little heart. Seriously, I’m the wuss of all wusses when it comes to television programming—I can’t stand blood and bad guys and danger—but 24 happened to be on and that Jack Bauer dude is just so cool.

So I’m getting all wrapped into it, clenching the couch and gasping at all the surprise attacks. Then one episode ends with this crazy twist. SPOILER ALERT! So there’s this terrorist trapped in this building and he’s surrounded by cops and the SWAT team and like a gazillion guys with guns and there’s absolutely no way for him to get out alive. And this terrorist is like a really, really bad terrorist, maybe the most dangerous in the world. He’s been threatening to kill thousands of people around the country with this crazy virus. So it’s really important that they get him.

But then, at the very last moment, just as he’s about to be blown up, the terrorist calls the head of the CTU, telling him to check out this website. There on his computer screen, the CTU guy sees his wife being held hostage. He must either divert the operation or watch his wife get her eyeball cut out.

And so the CTU guy tells his troops to cluster near the front door of the building.

And the terrorist escapes through the back.

And that’s how it ends.

We turn off the TV, and as I’m all shaken up, I ask Matt what any girl would ask her fiancé.

“Would you do that for me?”

Without hesitation, Matt says no.

I, in all my PMS-y glory, start to sob.

“Y-y-you would let them take my eyeball ooooooout??” I manage to ask through sniffles. I’m furious inside.

Matt says that if he were ever to take a job like that, which he wouldn’t, the possibilities that come with his position would be discussed beforehand, and that my question makes all sorts of assumptions.

All I hear is “Blah, blah, blah … it’s OK if your eyeball comes out.”

And then he says that if given the choice, he would choose to die in order to save me, which is pretty sweet, but I’m still so mad!

Why does he have to be so practical?

He could have just said, “Of course, honey. I would never let anyone touch your pretty little face.” And then I’d swoon and wouldn’t have to be a snotty mess.

I hope the fate of our country never has to rest on my husband’s decision.

Because I’d be really mad at him.

I would stare him down every night.

With my one eye.

When it comes to my forthcoming marriage, what I am most looking forward to, and also most nervous about, is, well, living together. In this day, I suppose it’s rather odd for a couple that has been together for this long (let’s see, we reunited in 2003, so that makes it … forever) to have never cohabitated. But we just never felt the need to take that plunge. (Um, you think I’d give up my rent-free room in my parents’ spacious abode to share a teeny apartment with a boy who hates floral comforters? Heck nah.) So it’s gonna be an adjustment. And to be honest, I have no idea how it’s gonna pan out.

First, here’s what I’m excited about:

— Getting to see Matt all the time.

— Nesting. I don’t really know what that means, but I think it includes decorating?

— Becoming domesticated. Can’t wait to finally wear all the cute aprons people have bought me over the years (gag gifts, mostly) and learn to cook!

— Hosting dinner parties (uh, assuming that whole “learn to cook” thing works out).

And here’s what I’m slightly freaked out about:

— Having to see Matt all. the. time. OK, this is gonna be weird. Even though we’ve been together for so long, because we live apart, I still feel like our days together are like dates. There’s a goodbye kiss at the end. Keyword: End. At the end is when I begin my ‘me’ time. I can do my freelance work, blog, dawdle on the internet, straighten up my room or just veg—all in peaceful solitude. Once we live together, THERE IS NO END. Once, he was like, when we get married, we’ll have to shower together to save water. (Ladies, it’s a trick!) And I was like, but I do my best thinking in the shower! I need to be alone! And he was like, sorry, you’ll have to talk to Mother Earth. Dude. We’re totally gonna be up in each other’s grill. When do I get my ‘me’ time?

— Decorating.

— Becoming domesticated. A recent conversation:

Me: When we get married, I’m gonna cook for you!

Matt: Why do you hate me?

— Bills and such. Le sigh.

In the end, everything will work out because we love each other. Right? RIGHT? Married people, stop laughing at me! No really, we are slowly but surely discussing our current living habits and what we might need to adjust in order to cohabitate sanely.

What’s most exciting about the move is that every day, I’ll get to fall asleep and wake up next to my husband (weirdweirdweirdweird!!!!).

That I can get used to.

Matt thinks my last post has turned all of you against him. I never intended for that to happen. Amsterdam is (was?) a legitimate contender but it is not the final decision. (And when a couple of my girlfriends asked me if they could go to Matt’s bachelor party instead of my bachelorette, I guess that was a joke. Though NOT THAT FUNNY, grr.) The boys are still in the brainstorming stage (I think). If there are serious plans to whisk my fiancé out of the continent for a week of testosterone-fueled shenanigans, I will be included in the discussion. I’ll be sure of it. I’m sorry if my last post was misleading in any way.

Our friend Vicky commented that if Matt does go to Amsterdam, maybe he could at least bring me along on a popsicle stick. She was referring to the time when Matt went on a family vacation to Rome, Spain and Italy, and surprised me with photos of himself carrying around a Mini Michelle.

Sweetest thing ever. Can we all love Matt again, please? Thanks.

Those familiar with Asian cuisine might get it.

If you are our parents, the correct answer is “Noodle Soup Prince.”

Hope you had a happy Halloween!

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get my old brain back. It’s hard easing back into reality once you’ve been out of it for a while. But I’m trying.

I’ve been meaning to write a post about marriage, just because, I dunno, I suppose it’s a topic I should be pondering in between spastic declarations of “AND NOW I WILL MAKE MARTHA’S PAPER ROSETTES.” But the thing is, and here’s my confession: I don’t know what to write. I don’t have any grand thoughts about marriage. I don’t even really know what it means to be married except that, well, you hang out a lot and you pick up each other’s my underwear off the bathroom floor and you make all these decisions together such as pale blue walls and dark wood furnishings and two girls named Priscilla and Penelope. That’s what marriage is, right?

No? Hm, then I don’t get it.

All I do know is that I want to be married to Matt. ‘Til death do us part. (We plan to be single in the afterlife but meet up for an occasional booty call.) I know that we’re a team and have been for a while. I know that he is my happy. I know that I’m excited to be his wife.

We’ll probably attend pre-marital counseling in the coming months. There’s a whole lot of stuff we don’t know and it will be good to have some guidance.

Just curious—for hitched folks, how has marriage changed things in your relationship?