Uber-husband is 11 years older than I am. But you wouldn't know it to lookit him. The first day I met him, I thought he was younger than I was — not more than a decade older.
I love to joke that when we met, I was in my 20s and his was in his 40s (I was 29 and he had just turned 40).
He's young at heart and his youthfulness permeates every fiber of his being. So the age difference is a non-issue (for the most part, I want him to take care of himself so I won't end up a widow — but I'm tired of nagging, so my black apparel may end up being appropriate sooner than I'd like).
When visiting his old, punk-rock friends from "back in the day," he was once asked, how he get himself such a young wife.
He answered with his stock reply, "I got her drunk and put her pregnant."
Just another example of our true white trashedness (I am the queen, ya know.)
No comments:
Post a Comment