Married Since Middle School

Chapter One: You Asked For It!

This is loosely based on my own amazing and often hilarious relationship. By no means do I have a daughter, but when I do, she totally gets the pleasure of reading this...over and over and over.... :) 

And yes, that's a photo of me. Not from middle school...but we'll get there soon. :)

[Email: June 12, 2036]

To the most aggravating daughter in the world,

...oh sorry, did I say aggravating? Darn spell check, I totally meant adorable....

It's mom, although you've probably already figured that out. Since you and the brainless birds you call friends won't stop begging me about the 'love story' you think I'm secretly keeping, here it is, in its full glory. I'd love to know exactly what's going on at that summer camp of yours that you feel the need to badger me with incessant questions about your parent's love life, but whatever, I guess it's up to you. Just remember: you asked for it. 

Unlike my whiney, privileged daughter, I actually have a life and job and can't just spend hours spewing out gushy nonsense to entertain a bunch of teenage girls. You want the story? You'll get it, but only a chunk at a time. And I'm NOT adding all that fluffy, romantic, "soul mate" nonsense you put in your notes to your friends. (Don't even get outraged about a 'privacy breach', I warned you to clean out your pockets before laundry day.)

I can't remember what I've already told you, or what nonsense stories dad's told you, so I'll just start at the beginning and set the record straight. I know he likes to think he's a big romantic. I guess that's why we work well together: one of us has to be the practical realist.

Anyway, back to the beginning. Basically, your father and I have been married since middle school.

Haha, got ya!

We really did meet in middle school though; only I looked a hot mess and had a crush on your father's best friend, Walter Sampson.

I know, right? Hard to resist a sexy name like Walter Sampson, isn't it? Don't get too excited, he's happily married now, so paws off.

Anyway, he was hot, even with a name like Walter. He had long red hair that fell in his eyes, freckled skin, and a butt that could put Johnny Bravo to shame. (I realize that you may or may not get that reference, but it's a good one. So Google it.)

He also perfectly fit the "Southern Gentleman" idea of a hottie I began idolizing after TV Land played a bunch of "Dukes of Hazard" reruns.

(In a particularly gross bit of irony, I later discovered that your grandmother also had a crush on Bo Duke...that's what I get for falling for a retro crush!)

You may be wondering how I knew he was such a "Southern Gentleman." Well it was simple. You see, I ignored the fact that he lived in a subdivision, and focused on the fact that he regularly wore knock-off Wrangler jeans and leather cowboy boots that smelled like the deer was still hanging on somewhere. Between classes he packed those luscious lips full of watermelon Skoal...illegal to those under 18...simultaneously improving his 'bad boy' reputation. Even better, when I eventually made him fall madly in love with me, I would get the pleasure of 'rescuing' him from his obvious drug habit. Clearly, I'm a real people person. 

In hindsight, I'm realizing this was the first in a long line of ginger gorgeousness. Let's see, there was Walter, the first Aaron, Jonathan, Ricardo, Rodger, and Aaron 2 , but now I'm getting ahead of myself.

I know, it's a struggle since smartphones destroyed your generation's attention span, but if you paid attention, you realized that your dad, Aaron 2, was pretty far down on the list, but I promise he comes into play at about this time...

...as I said, your dad was hottie Walter's lame best friend.

Don't judge me. I hadn't even gotten to know your father yet: he was overshadowed by the fire crotch with a Johnny Bravo butt and Bo Duke outfit. (Hehe, I hope that made you squirm, remember, you asked for it!)

Well, I have to go now, so I guess this is the end of the first installment. In all seriousness though I'm about to pull my mom card (bimbo friends, look away): I love you, I hope you are having fun, and I miss you, just not your laundry.

Kisses!

Your loving mother.

I thank you for reading, commenting, voting, yada, yada, yada. I'd love your opinions and feedback, of course. That's what makes me a better writer! This is a fun new experience for me, while I'm pretty freaking hilarious in person, I usually write with my serious face on. I hope you enjoy!