My Funny Valentine

If you've ever dated, you know what a losing proposition THAT is.  The ratio of good men to good women is conservatively estimated to be 1 to 4,832,000, or roughly the odds of being attacked by terrorists*.

Then I met The Advanced Breeder.  Or rather, he met me.  99.99 percent of the heavy lifting that has gone into growing our relationship to the deepest imaginable human connection is from the great guy below pouring me a Rob Roy. 

 

Unlike me, The Advanced Breeder has never given a rip about what anyone thinks of him.  Back in the days when we were mere co-workers, the term for this was "asshole." 

Today, as a happily married couple, the term for this remains: "asshole." 

We have one inviolable rule of our relationship: Go for the line.We live by the creed that nothing should get in the way of a great line. You'd be amazed how good life can be when arguments gets stopped cold because of that rule. No one ever feels like they have to win if everyone laughs.

12 years ago this morning, The Advance Breeder completely disregarded my wishes.  I was ready to get married, but didn't think I needed to bother with the whole engagement ring thing, and said so many times over. I'd been engaged twice before. One of those times had even turned into a marriage. How many more diamonds could I possibly reset?

Until The Advanced Breeder took me in his arms and started telling me how much he loved me.  How much he wanted me forever in his life. I probably would have interrupted him with a joke, but he looked so serious, I thought it might be the one time in my life not to go for the line.   Then the beautiful diamond engagement ring came out. He asked me to be his wife and a friend to his kids for the rest of our lives.

It was so unexpected, so simple and more romantic than I ever could have dreamed when I was young and longing to be married.

Unexpected? On Valentine's Day?  Ah...but the day before, on February 13, 1999, was my Dad's memorial mass.  The Advanced Breeder's timing gave both me and my Mom joy on that bleak NJ morning.

We married 11 months later.

*If you get that cultural reference, you're old enough to read this blog.