Friday, November 18, 2011

1-800-KentuckyBrides.com - The Time He Threatened to Stab Me Repeatedly

I last left you with The Hubs in his darkest period.  Before I tell you the story of our actual meeting, I'd like to give you a taste of what he was like in those days.  I mentioned that he blogged back then.  I was a pretty faithful blogger myself in 2005.  The following was his (troll-like) response to one of my blog posts.  As I was re-reading this, I sat here sputtering and tsking at The Hubs, and telling him that his younger self was a brat.  BRAT.  The post is edited for clarity and length, i.e. I am deliberately censoring out the parts where he isn't quite as openly MOCKING ME.  Without further ado:

The One


[...]
This is in response to a post on Dorothy's blog also called The One.

I should probably start by welcoming Dorothy to the wonderful world of the pessimists. But we've actually had this discussion before.

And I've always won.

WIFE'S NOTE: REMEMBER THIS LINE LATER.

Dorothy is, at least, finally squaring away her romantic views with her religious views.

WIFE'S NOTE: ALWAYS MOCKING MY RELIGIOUS BELIEFS.  SIGH.


Anyway, Dorothy was one of those people who liked to tell me that God has someone for me somewhere. Undoubtedly someone with a pitchfork.

Editor's Note: One day I'm going to meet a girl with a pitchfork and I'll remember this post.

WIFE'S NOTE: I DON'T HAVE A PITCHFORK, BUT NOW I KIND OF WISH I DID.

Second Editor's Note: Thanks to Christi's perverse animation, I have to amend that the pitchfork must be red and the girl must have a cute red tail and, perhaps, some horns to go with it. I will not spend any portion of my life in farmland unless I'm running from the police.

WIFE'S NOTE: GUESS WHO HAD TO STAY IN FRANKFORT, KENTUCKY FOR TWO DAYS IN SEPTEMBER?  WHERE THERE ARE FARMS AND RURALNESS?  GOD HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR.

And maybe not even then.

At the same time, Dorothy also is one of those dirty Arminians (::wink::), so she doesn't believe that God elects to salvation. That does seem to be problematic.

WIFE'S NOTE: BRAT.

Anyway, she seems to have reversed her position of late, at least in the general sense. No doubt she'll try to convince me that God does have a girl somewhere picked out for me.

Personally, I don't buy it.

[...]

That said, I don't think that God has it in His plan for me to get married. If He does, I don't think it'll be to anyone I know right now. Probably not until I'm no longer in Maryland, really.

WIFE'S NOTE: REALLY?  WHO'S WRONG NOW, BUSTER???

Guess it's time to go backpacking across the country now.

WIFE'S NOTE: AND TO THINK, I CAME TO YOU.

[...]

The point is that while I believe in "The One," I don't believe that there will necessarily be anything magical about that person. There might. I've had one relationship that started off, at least, almost magical.

WIFE'S NOTE: GEE, THANKS.

Yeah, I've lost most of my ability to believe in romance. Romance will get you nowhere in the long run. It might help to start. It might help at key intervals along the way. But, in the end, romance is just dressing on what is a job.

And just like a job, you can think you're doing well until one day you're fired.

So, yeah, I believe in "The One." 

I just don't believe in love anymore.

WIFE'S NOTE: LOOKING BACK, I THINK ITS PRETTY CLEAR THAT I WIN. 


So here we are in 2011.  I'm pretty sure he's changed his tune since then.  I'm still not convinced that there is a "The One," but he is definitely my one and only, for the rest our lives.  He wrote this post about three weeks after we met.  The story goes like this:

It was my senior year of college.  I was in Washington, D.C. for a school-sponsored internship, and I didn't want to pay the astronomical fees to park my car at the hotel.  ($25/a day?  Do you know how many pairs of pants that would buy?  And RAMEN?)  Since The Hubs lived nearby(ish), he agreed to let me park my car in his apartment lot for free.  I took a friend, and we met him at a local Applebees.

He kept threatening to stab me with utensils.

Side note:  he still has that t-shirt, and sometimes I steal it to sleep in because OHMIGOSHSOCOMFY!
We went back to his house for a bit before he took us to the metro for the ride back into D.C.  It was winter, and as we left his apartment, we encountered a problem:  You see, thanks to the temperature, his door didn't seal properly when left to close on its own.  Focused so much on the door, The Hubs did not pause as he turned back to give the handle a yank.  Later, he said that just as the words, "Do I have my keys?  No!" the door clicked shut.

He was locked out.  With no apartment key, no car key, and no way to get in until morning.  So, we headed over to the apartment of Inner Harbor girl (with whom he was still friends, and with whom we are both now friends) and her roommate (who is now the sister-in-law of B., my previously mentioned sweet and hilarious friend mentioned here, here, and here.)  Roommate doesn't remember this, our first inauspicious meeting, but it happened!

It was here that he continued his campaign to put me in fear of my life, with his deadly dagger-wielding skills. (As if driving a little Kentucky girl around the seedy underbelly of Laurel in the middle of the night wasn't enough.)
Although you can't see it in these pictures, he had long hair pulled back in a pony tail.  I grew up around military service members, so I can't even express to you how awkward I find long hair on men to be.  It was not one of his better fashion choices.  I was also in a relationship at that time, so it just wasn't time for "us."  But this did mark the beginning of what I call our "real life friendship," where I stopped thinking of him as an internet buddy.  We would meet again in three years, and everything would be different.

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