Well, we did it.
We made it a whole year!
Travis and I reflected on our first year as a married couple this morning. And while it didn’t go without it’s trials and tribulations, our time together has given us much more to celebrate over than to complain about. So we thought, ‘what the hell, why stop at one?’ (This is where I would insert a winky face emoji because some of you can’t read sarcasm.)
Then we went about our own business because when we previously discussed what we had planned for Monday, February 11th we both completely forgot it was our wedding anniversary so Travis agreed to play in a golf tournament and I committed to teaching my first classes with a local children’s theater. Sigh, wedded bliss. Don’t worry, we honored each other last night by putting on our nicest sweatpants, taking ourselves to the movies and making out in the backseat of the truck. And later today we will airbrush each other’s makeup because we have a show tonight and damn it, ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD. (Another winky emoji face.)
Recently a friend (HI MEGAN!) made the comment “you’re love story makes me so happy” and I was caught in between a visible cringe and laughing as I thought, “she read the part where I TOLD HIM I HAD FLEAS, right?”
It was in that moment that I realized I hadn’t really done our “love story” justice. Not that any of what I’m about to tell you is romantic. Or charming. Or endearing. Or any of the other adjectives you would normally use to describe meeting the man you will soon spend the rest of your life with. So if you came here expecting some tale that rivals the plot of you’re favorite Disney movie then you came here to be disappointed.
Okay, so maybe we could make a loose pass for Aladdin, imagine…
I would play Aladdin - always running around half-dressed wearing glorified sweatpants,
Rinn is Abu - my small but overzealous sidekick,
Travis as Princess Jasmine (of course) - her little harem costume could easily pass for his powder blue jumpsuit.
If you leave out Genie, the magic carpet, Jafar, the fact that neither of us lived in a castle and the overall plot of the film...I honestly have no idea where I was going with that other than that’s the only Disney movie that the characters wear outfits that resemble loungewear.
Moving on. Back to reality.
At some point after I had told Travis about my fleas he began asking me out.
Him: You want to grab dinner between shows?
Him: What are you doing after work?
Him: Where are you going for dinner?
I know, I know. Some of you are thinking…”you said NO? To Travis? Are you CRAZY!”
Yes I’m crazy, I won’t contest that. But the theater I worked at had a revolving door when it came to Elvi, and I didn’t have a strong desire to get involved with a man who can properly contour. What? We would walk around with him looking awesome and me looking like I had rubbed dirt on my face? Not a chance.
Then Travis overheard me talking about buying a camper. He actually tells this part of the story way better than I do but I’ll give it my best.
I was homeschooling Rinn at the time and I had this batty dream of buying a camper and traveling the contiguous 48 (maybe venturing into Canada); living in a travel trailer and schooling/working from whatever campground would have us for the week. I would spend the few minutes between dances in the dressing room looking at RVTrader.com and then discuss my grand plan backstage before dancing out of the curtain.
It was on one of these days that Travis wondered up and said:
“I have a camper.”
That was it, the beginning of the end. I could get past the make up if it meant I could use his camper. The next time he asked me to grab dinner I said “yes”.
By then Travis and Rinn were already the best of friends. Not that I remotely condoned this, some might even say I was determined to keep these two aspects of my life separate (that whole mama bear thing) but Rinn frequented the theater enough that my protective measures didn’t stand a chance. Rinn was all Elvis-this and Travis was all Rinn-that and who was I to stand in the way of their blossoming friendship.
Word got around the theater that we were dating and the “when are you getting married” jokes started. I am not one to be baited so I always replied “January 1st and you’re all invited!” The dancers spent most of the fall season planning my fake but elaborate wedding; putting together outfits they would wear to the Vegas chapel, orchestrating faux engagement photos, deciding which of Elvis’ big-ass rings I would wear as my wedding band, etc. I would say it's clear that we should all have gotten hobbies but we worked to much for that nonsense.
The joke was on us though, because we fell in love for real.
At some point after I stopped responding to his I-love-you’s with an “ok”, he decided it was time to come clean and confessed:
“So, I don’t actually have a camper.”
Too late dude.
People are always a little outraged by this, reacting with a “HE LIED TO YOU!” Their disbelief amuses me. Like hello, why do you think I was avoiding him in the first place?
But seriously, which is worse? The fact that he lied to me about having a camper or the fact that I only went out with him because I thought he had one? I call it a wash.
I’d like to see Disney write that fairytale.
And Travis, if you’re reading this, Happy Anniversary!
I LOVE YOU but you owe me a camper.