Mike and I knew each other in high school where he was the object of my best friend’s affection. I had zero interest in him. He was, after all, a Minor-Niner, and I was in grade 10!
We started working together a few years later in a pizza joint, by which time I’d skipped a grade and was in University to his grade 12! This time I was smitten though. (I think he only went out with me because I was in University. Bragging rights and all that.
)
We had absolutely nothing in common. He was a marginally-Catholic jock, youngest of 7. I was an ultra-religious Pentecostal Brainer, oldest of 4.
We dated 7 years, 6 months, and 12 days (but who’s counting), and have been married for more than 27 years.
On paper, it never should have worked. We still have very little in common, except that we each put the other first. Our boys are 24 and almost 26, and they have never seen us fight.
He’s losing his hair; I’m losing the fight with gravity (literally, if you recall how I broke my leg), but he still thinks I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. And I know he’s the most handsome man.
