During this week in history, you took me man-hunting.
We had a specific list of required characteristics.
1.) He must be taller than me.
2.) He must be kind.
3.) He must have a job, with insurance and benefits.
4.) He must be older, established and seasoned in life.
I have since come to realize, none of the men you know, actually qualify in all Four categories...but you lined up your best bets and we headed out.
Like any great hunter, your prey was unsuspecting. We moved stealthily and with a keen, watchful eye. One by one, each Target fell off my radar. Some, for superficial reasons... a few, for fairly legitimate issues. Black socks with faded jeans?? Really??
We returned from our hunt, exhausted but in good spirits and ready for a post-outing night cap.
Upon arrival, we encountered my future Tru Love, the man of my dreams, the father of my children...passed out on your couch. Clothes, boots, hat and all: all too ready to rally and start Round Two (or knowing him, probably Round Three).
(actual picture, is it any wonder, I chose him?)
I squeezed in next to my catch, almost immediately prepared to cash in my tag. While engaging Coach in witty banter, oblivious that he qualified in Not a Single One, of my Four categories. It is not obvious, how Tall a man person is, as he sits on a couch.
You would think, Coach would at least qualify in Category Two though not from the glowing recommendation, Commish bellowed from across the party with much conviction.
"No way! Don't Date my Brother!"
"Stay Away from my Brother! He's NO Good."
And other expletives, not appropriate for blog reading.
Commish: I could have processed
and then registered your advice. Except:
A.) The more negative and Bad Boy the review, the more attractive Coach became.
B.) Also, on this evening, your impeccable and well educated judgement seemed blurred.
For on this, the most romantic moment of my life, you were dared to eat a piece of dog food.
And. You. Did. Commish... Twice.
Proving Jackie scored a winner, as well.
Commish: I would like to commemorate this Valentines, by thanking you for your poor advice. For warning me, so fervently against your younger hot mess of a brother, that it pushed me towards him that much harder.
You were so very convincing in your disdain for him, I knew this must be the man for me.
Maybe, that was your plan, all along? Maybe, you really wanted us together and only pretended that Coach was a worthless, bad-news good-for nothing heart breaker whom would amount to nothin?
You are a sly one, Commish.
One day, when our children are told an edited, sweeter version of this fairy tale...you will be the hero, in our story. The man, who convinced not One cousin but Two, to marry into your family.
Tricking two 'brown-eyed' girls, into sculpting your Family Tree, into our Family Wreath.
Well played, Commissioner, well played.
And to my Husband?
Tonight you drove All The Way across town to pick up a Casey's pizza, for our Valentine's dinner.... I'm still just as lucky, as I was on that evening. I'm living a real life Romantic Comedy, fo sho.