Comfortable in my underpants
I am sat at my computer in my underpants, the wind is howling and rain comes down in bucket loads. When the weather is like this I find myself contemplative, considering such deep thoughts as, how would life be different if...? Or Would I be happier if...?
It's completely pointless, my life is what it is, warts, fart jokes and all.
If my life were a novel I would be the protagonist, I call dibs, it's my story afterall. Secondary to me would be the love interest, for purposes of said story we shall call him, The Bearded Wonder (or BW if my fingers get tired of typing) Third equally after my BW would come our three children. Caltech, 6, cool kid, Leo, going to grow into a rather handsome thing. BonBear, 3, Shy, Aquarius, I imagine him dying his hair black and writing poetry in his bedroom at 16. And finally the Gug, 2, football obsessed, Sagitarius, going to be the hellfire teenager, he is the hell fire toddler as we speak.
At the start of our story the Bearded Wonder and I were stupid kids, stupid to the point of insanity. Each with our own battles, while simulataneously trying to fight each others. We were 17 (him) and the older me (at 18) when we started dating.
Chalk and cheese doesn't even cover how completely at ends we were. Him, with bleach blonde hair, overly baggy jeans, pristine sneakers and a gold chain. Think a teenager, wanker, Eminem wanna be. Me, the chubby emo, grubby chuck taylors and tomboy hair cut, purpetually carrying a skateboard- purely for the look of it, my thrice broken tailbone will tell you how poorly I rode it ( and still do).
Its the classic tale of lovers from opposite sides of the tracks. I was on the nice side, spoilt little shit, only child still at home. Him on the other side, working a full time job to help support his demon riddled catholic parents and his two younger sisters.
It all sounds so cliche, I know, I want our story to be origninal and breathtaking and uber romantic, but fast forward from the moment we met (he was dating my friend and I loudly declared him to be quite the dickhead) to the moment we first kissed, he had kissed his ex-girlfriend/my friend only moments before and had spent the majority of the afternoon supplying me (who to this day can not drink bourbon without dry retching) with copious amounts of said liquor. I was messy and we both had terrible breath and I threw up not long after- from the alcohol, not the kiss... or maybe the kiss?
Anyway fast forward another good twelve hours, I am sleeping over at his ex-girlfriends house, yes the one he had previously swapped saliva with. He calls her phone at about 10am, which she is rather excited about- perhaps he called to rekindle with her- and she promptly threw her phone at me after answering. I was the person he wanted to speak to, I had supposedly left my beanie in his car (An 87 corolla *swoons* *sarcasm*) he drove to said friends house and seemingly sometime after that we begun dating.
Fast forward again almost 9 years to the present wherein I sit at my computer in my underwear, while rain pours and wind howls and the Bearded Wonder sleeps in our bed, farts, scratches himself and rolls over and our three children snore baby snores and mimic their father also farting, scratching and sleeping in almost identical positions which I can only assume is some kind of genetic passdown because it doesn't look comfortable.
I am comfortable in my underwear because even though, our start was rocky and some of our middle was too, we can accept each others farts, stretch marks, balding and pre-mature greying of hairs because we did the rough stuff already (I hope) and even if there is more rough stuff I am completely confident we CAN get through it together, warts, fart jokes and all.
Its not sweet, its not romantic, it actually makes me sound like a bit of a tart dating my friends freshly undated ex-boyfriend- but that's another story for another rain driven moment of contemplation.