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Marital Mondays: Besame Mucho

I’ve experienced love’s deepest throat probings and its crappy, desperate chick-flick sob stories.  There probably isn’t a sexual leaf that I haven’t turned over, and I certainly wouldn’t change any of it.  With all of the character that I built on teen binge weekends and long-term relationships, I never overcame my fear of public displays of affection.

I know.  Pick your jaw up.  I’ve been this way with every schmuck I’ve dated, and I didn’t quite figure in how such a thing would affect a marriage.  Well, it has.  I never thought I’d become the hairy old cat lady tossing styrofoam containers, with half-eaten fried chicken bones hanging out of them, onto the nightstand.  I just wasn’t sure, after I had Mooch, that I would or should get married.  I was content with just the two of us, and I didn’t mind kissing her in public — only men.

There was something about the sleazy way I felt when couples stood in front of me at Magic Mountain groping each other’s glutes.  Don’t get me wrong.  I never called out, “Get a room” to enamored pedestrians swapping slobber on city street corners.  I just made a note to self, somewhere along the way, that the guys hanging over the banisters at the Fox Hills Mall would never snicker at me and any of my mates.

Well, yesterday, in the middle of a crowded Ralph’s parking lot, I lost touch with reality.  We had a pretty sleepless weekend, given Hannibal’s private karaoke gig and Fuss’ need for closeness during teething.  Despite all of this, our mid-day, impromptu grocery excursion was so peaceful and full of laughs.  By the time we got to the check-out lane, our energy was bouncing back and forth.  We were setting up jokes for each other right and left.  Three lanes of cashiers and baggers were cracking up.

High on laughter, as I was helping load the bags into the backseat, I looked at Hannibal.  It was like he understood, because he went in for the kiss, so I wouldn’t have to.  Though it was brief, I’ll never forget it.

There have only been a few times in my life, where time stood still.  I’m pretty sure my wedding day was one of them.  When people thought I had cold feet, I was really in that bathroom prepping myself to kiss Hannibal in front of over one hundred guests.  Considering the leg wrap I saw on the video, I think I tuned everyone out and did alright.

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Happy Six Month Anniversary, Hannibal

My husband asked me to write about how awesome he is, and at first I thought, “Yeah, right. I’m totally not going to do that, because it’s corny.” Then I realized that today is our six month anniversary! Yippee! I know it’s nothing to all of you people celebrating silver anniversaries, but I do know a few couples who were divorced within two months. It happens. I will, therefore, celebrate our love and our milestones no matter how small they seem — even if it’s only with a blog.

Hannibal and I have gracefully endured a 15 mile move across the city, more than half of a pregnancy, and a lot of mariachi music (Don’t ask.). Are there times when I want to pick up a remote control and throw it at his head? Not really. We don’t get down like that. Our life experiences have led us to place where we’d rather have a three hour conversation about our issues. Sure, his snoring is the most annoying thing I’ve ever had to sleep through, comic books are invading our house, and his chest hair sheds in clumps near the bathroom sink.

Those things are insignificant compared to his pleasant disposition upon entering the home everyday, his excitement over new ideas, and his relentless focus on everything he’s trying to accomplish — writing five novels, raising a wonderful family, and pan-galactic domination.

His laser-like intent is slowly rubbing off on me. I admire his ability to churn out copy at the speed of a South African hermaphrodite track runner. I hope one day I can churn out something as fast as he does — choreography, designs, nuclear weaponry — I don’t know yet (We’ll talk about my lack of focus in another blog. Stay focused!).

Anyway, Hannibal is certainly awesome. My daughter and I adore him. Does he make mistakes? YES!!! It takes a real man to admit when he’s wrong and do something about it. His ability to swallow his pride, apologize, and atone are definitely worth noting. Oh, I forgot to say that, in the bedroom, he’s really [redacted] [removed] [explicit content]. *smile*

Please enjoy our wedding video (posted above) in honor of our six months together.

 

 

 

 

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