Oh Boys!

Growing up, I always imagined marrying a tall, dark, and handsome doctor. 

Well, I found one. 

And he’s in the Navy. 

 

He’s 6’3” half white and half Mexican, and makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met before.  On paper, he’s absolutely perfect.  He owns his home (which he has been fixing up) and wants to settle down.  He’s a cook, a handyman, and did I mention he’s funny? Because he is.  He also wears dress shirts and ties on red-eye flights, but I mean, everyone has to have a flaw, right?

 

Here’s the problem: I’m intimidated by him.  I don’t even know how to handle it.  This isn’t even a feeling I’m accustomed to…I definitely don’t know how to handle it. 

But I’m not ruling him out.  I mean, I guess mostly because in this situation it really is not him, but me. 

 

***

The other day Cole called me drunk.  (The only state in which he calls me, of course.) He informed me that we were getting married.  In Reno… just like his parents.

I told him there was no way I was getting married in Reno.

He informed me we were getting married in Tahoe.

We already tried that once, it didn’t work.  (Seriously.  One weekend we decided to go to Tahoe, we saw a cute little chapel and decided to get married… except we couldn’t do it without our friends there, so Cowboy and Traitor drove up… and then we got far too drunk to get married.)

He informed me we were getting married in Vegas, and after the wedding I’d move to Sacramento with him and we’d live in his little yellow house with his yellow kitchen.  

I wished him the best of luck in that endeavor- he’s going to need it.

 

Did I mention Cole found out about the blog?  He then asked if I’d been slapped in the face by a black penis lately. 

 

 

Unfortunately, I haven’t.  I mean, it could be possible if ARRRRSSSSSIIIIINNNNNYYOOOOO wasn’t such a pussy- but he is, apparently, afraid of me.  Or he doesn’t actually exist outside of Ale.  Sofia thinks he’s a frog… and Charlii agrees.  She also thinks it’s possible that if I kiss him while he’s a frog, he’ll turn into my prince… in the form of GQ.