Opposites Attract

Me: Am I allowed to tell the blogging world that you were a pot head?
Dan: No. Well, I guess. But you can word it better than that. Tell them I made some unfortunate decisions in my youth. If you put "pot head," I will tell the world that you used to draw your feelings and weren't allowed to watch TV.

Blogging world already knows that Husband. Ha!

So, Dan and I were total opposites in high school. He was someone who "made some unfortunate decisions in his youth." I lived in a naive world where I firmly believed that no one in our school did drugs. Except that one rich kid who had too much free time and had sex with his girlfriend everywhere on campus. And the football team did steroids, but we lived in Scottsdale so everyone knows that doesn't really count.

Anyway, as we were headed to a birthday party this weekend, (not as popular as we sound. It was for a 3-year-old) we had a discussion that we would have never spoken in high school. Or college for that matter. I was too goody-two-shoes and he was too busy trying to be invisible. If I had met him before I did, he probably would have been invisible to me. I chose to date the guys I was best friends with or the bad boys. (Inward groan for my own unfortunate decisions.)
My friends and I went swing dancing on Tuesdays. We played pool on Friday nights at my house. We played games that didn't involve drinking and never went skinny dipping. We were wholesome, which sounds like a bad word now that I type it.

Lucky for us, Dan and I started dating after his pot head days. And he's actually lucky I didn't know he was a pot head when we first met, because there would have been no way I would have gone out with him. Or tried to set him up with Elinor...which is what I did first...

I was just now sitting here typing and trying to think of a way to finish this blog.

Me: I've known you for...47 months.
Dan: Yes.
Me: We shouldn't have gotten married so fast! We barely knew each other!
Dan: Yes. You are lucky I didn't turn out to be a serial killer. I could have hurt you and buried you in the basement. Which would have been impressive, considering we don't have a basement.
Me: Yes, Dear.
Dan: Don't "Dear" me! I'll punch you in the face. Give you a black eye.
Me: *typing all this down for the blogging world to read, as evidence in case I mysteriously disappear someday*
Dan: Don't type that. People don't think spousal abuse jokes are funny. They wouldn't get our sense of humor.

Blog post - reminiscing moment? Check. Conversations with Dan? Check. Reference to how lame I am? Check. Domestic violence joke? Check.