After years of watching crappy dating reality TV shows, watching stars jump into one set of pants to another in record time, to my friends, sisters, relatives doing the dating dance, online dating, the boring phone calls, the everything I am really grateful that I found my husband when I did. I wouldn’t be able to handle the shit-show that is now called modern dating. Oy. To.The.Vey. I feel for you people.
If we followed the dating rules of Miss Manners, technically my husband and I shouldn’t even be together, as we broke every fricking rule in the book. I believe when we have some free time we are going to pen our own manual and call it “The Drunk Dating Rules”. There is one problem, we never dated. Our courtship if you can call it that began in College, with us eye spying each other at whatever local haunt we decided to destroy our brain cells in. We’d purposely avoid each other till last call. I’d spy Rich - something like “I spy with my little drunk eye, Rich at the pool table”. I’d do my little dance to get closer to Rich, and then he’d “I spy with my blood shot eyes Deanna at the bathroom”, or I do a “Lap” around the bar to see where he was if my eye spy radar was too drunk, and as the night progressed, we’d inch closer and give in to the magnetic drunken pull that was forcing together. As the last call bell chimed, like Pavlov’s Dogs we’d be suddenly be in some corner making out, we’d get kicked out go our separate ways (honestly, I was not that type of girl, I cared more about the red solo cup eons before it’s notoriety ), and resume this strange ritual the very next night. If we saw each other during the day we‘d run as if we were vampires.
When we finally talked to each other, it was awkward, as awkward as two people who never dated anyone in their lives who sucked face with each other for two months at some townie bar, we pieced together some sort of sentence and “officially” became a couple. I was relieved because I finally got his name, and now eleven years of marriage, twenty years all together, and two beautiful, healthy, intelligent, funny, and dare I say annoying (we all know our children can be annoying) boys under our belts who say’s cheap watered-down college beer isn’t a solid-foundation for a good healthy marriage?