It’s my anniversary today. Or tomorrow. I’ll accept either, so take your pick.
To celebrate three whole years of marriage I’m going to tell a story that everyone knows and loves because
people keep asking to hear it again I tell it all the time whether you want to hear it or not.
This story is completely true and unembellished in any way.
It’s the story of How I Met My Husband (and I swear I’ll tell it quicker than Ted Mosby)
Seven and a half years ago, I picked Brad up on a street corner in Kings Cross.
That’s my story.
PS. For those unfamiliar with Sydney, Kings Cross is the drug and prostitution capital of our fair city. I found Brad on the corner of William St, beneath the
gaudy iconic Coca Cola sign. It’s just like Times Square but more trashy.
PPS. In case you feel that wasn’t enough, Brad introduced himself as an arrogant arsehole (because he’s a Leo) and I was impressed with his honesty. And his smile. And despite the fact that I was in a terrible mood that day and had gone out looking for people to hate, I fell in love with him right away. Within hours I knew I was going to keep him. In the morning I took him home and haven’t let go since.
PPPS I usually like to add the part about how he spent half the night trying to chat up another girl who was so disinterested she didn’t even realise he was flirting with her before he finally figured out that I was (not so subtly) waiting for his attention. But it’s our anniversary and three years ago today I vowed to love and honour and never embarrass Brad, so I won’t tell that part this time. You’re welcome, my love.
PPPPS Brad, I love you like Shakespeare:
I would not wish any companion in the world but you”
(That’s from The Tempest, which doesn’t sound like the title of the most romantic play ever written, but I’m pretty sure that Brad would agree that tempestuous is a much more apt description of me than romantic.)