Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Are you spanking a ton of men and other relatable offenses

This past weekend, while in Vegas, it occurred to me as my face was pressed to the cold glass of the window staring into the Heart Attack Grill, that me and the betrothed will never be on the same page when it comes to food, physical activity, and music. While he was busy studying the zip line above Fremont St., I channeled EVERY PHOTOGRAPHER THAT EVER LIVED and took pictures of total strangers enjoying their 100% pure butterfat shakes as if my life depended on it.  

Hi people. I see you. Hey, don't call me creepy.

So me and Nate are really different - and that’s ok - because diversity is good in the workplace (hey, don’t tell me that marriage isn’t work). I provide a fresh perspective on all matters related to napping and deliciousness, and he likes to share his knowledge and experience in the areas of working out and avoiding “bad carbs” (blasphemy). We couldn’t be more different in this regard, but we do always manage to meet somewhere in the middle between “That donut isn’t good for you” and “Are you crazy? Don’t tell me what to do.” 



It’s like a clash of the titans!

We’ve been together for quite some time though, so something’s working.

Anyway, we were on a planned trip to Vegas visiting family, which happened to fall on the same weekend as our 20-year high school reunion. I was so sad to miss this event, especially since high school played such a huge part in our life/love story. It’s where it all began. Man, how is it that 20 years have gone by though? How am I two short steps away from 40 when grade school seems like just yesterday? Oh, time – you tricky bitch.


Must one go to school to become a latte artiste?


Looking back, it’s hard to believe I was once a girl who was SO afraid to eat an In-N-Out double-double in front of him that I threw that piece of heaven in the trash on our first outing.  What a crock of doo-doo. I don’t even remember when all that dainty-like stuff stopped and my true self emerged, but I’ve gone on to consume thousands of burgers in his presence since then, and he’s never once said that this isn’t what he signed up for.  Likewise, I still accept him even though I had no way of knowing that a burning flame of love for pure Mexican music  would grow and become the playlist for every road trip we'd ever go on. With a solid defense of “Would you rather drive?” whenever I try changing the station, I am kept in my place.   Yet, for all of our differences, we work. For all the times I've made him drive us home from hours away just so I could relieve myself in the comfort and privacy of my own bathroom, or forced him to take the fall for an inopportune fart, he’s stood by my side.



He sure loves these guys. No offense, but I prefer a little Motownphilly myself, thank you very much


Nate’s asked me on a few occasions if I have any regrets about us, or if I would go back and change anything along the way. I don’t like this line of questioning because the universe does not allow such a luxury. It’s torturous with our circumstances. OF COURSE there are things I wish I could change – I’d give anything, do anything, say anything to have Ligaya here alive and well and eating burgers with us. I would trade places if I could. But since death remains immutable, I would not change the course of our river – not one moment in the history of us - because each and every experience at their precise times along our walk together led us to the point of her creation, existence, and now memory.



My most favorite picture of us
 
So, sure, we're different, but we do work.  It’s often messy, but that's us. What's cool is that I can even read his mind and say what he’s thinking at the exact time he’s saying it out loud! Ok, not really, but I like to pretend just to freak him out. It’s an easy trick - I just mumble and make up words at the same time he’s talking:

Nate: I was in this meeting today and we were discussing the financial impact of...

Me: …meeting today discus throwing finances impassse dog

Nate: Are you speaking in tongues again?

Me: Are you spanking a ton of men?

Nate: Stop it. That’s really...

Me: awesome?

See, we complete each other. Ok, so maybe we don’t finish each other’s sentences, exactly,  but there was this one time in the car, during a blessed moment of radio silence,  when we suddenly burst out singing the same line of the same song that was silently playing in our heads. Just like that. I honestly can’t remember what song it was, but I remember the moment, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.



 Viva la Mexico!

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