The Dark Knight and I married when I was 21 and he was 19.
We were so young. So young that we didn’t really plan much of a wedding. Got married on Christmas Eve. The Dark Knight couldn’t drive a stick shift yet so after the reception we (I) drove off and we went through the drive through of Taco Bell. Me still in my Grandmother’s wedding dress and he in his borrowed tuxedo.
It was a little weird…..
Of course it didn’t happen. Like, EVER.
But I didn’t. And now I was the oldest and I had been married the longest.
About 10 years into our marriage I really, truly gave it up. No more baby thoughts. No more urinating on sticks. Nothing. I just KNEW. I knew it wasn’t going to happen and I was ok. So we sold all our junk and moved to Africa.
At some point I flew back home for work. When I returned I had THE WORST jet-lag. I just couldn’t shake it. On the morning of the 5th day home, I was pouring myself some coffee when the smell of it just about turned my face inside out.
We lived on the strawberry farm at that point and The Dark Knight was down the road at the farm stall. I ran to find him.
And he understood me anyway and hugged me and said, “congratulations.”