Category — love

As you read this, I am standing somewhere near (and possibly in) the Pan Pacific hotel in Vancouver, BC getting married to Joe.

Don’t worry, I’m not typing this as I take my vows – I’m not that wired in.

I can just imagine what our wedding Tweets would look like:

Rambleicious: OMG!! I’m married!!1!

Joe: OMG – I’m having her committed!

I am writing this in the past to post in the future so you can read it in what is now your present.

Yes – I am a time travelling bride.

And…

OMG!! I’m married! Woo!!

Today’s post is all about Joe – I think he’s earned it.

I mention him from time to time: he’s the guy who brings me bananas, who never touches my bum crack in public, who is totally cool with me going away for a weekend by myself and for some reason has not smothered me in my sleep – and he could totally get away with it for these reasons (and many others too numerous to list here):

• I often stand around and read in the bathroom – even though I have absolutely no need to be in there and he’d like to use it.
• I leave water glasses all over the house.
• I leave books everywhere – even on his nightstand.
• I have woken him up yelling in my sleep (what can I say, hanging around on Angelina Jolie’s speedboat was exciting).
• I poke him awake when I am feeling hyper at 4:30 a.m.
• I tease him for being the slowest dish-washer ever.
• I bring home more books than we actually have space for.
• I can be as charming as a recalcitrant two year old when it comes to dinner some days.
• I’m a little too enthusiastic about throwing things out or donating them.
• I say evil things like, “But, sweetie – don’t you want me to be happy?” when justifying the purchase of yet another MEC bag (I only have three now – I’ve been good for a long time).
• I dedicate blog posts to him with  Backstreet Boys lyrics in the title (this all by itself would have the murder charges dropped).

Yet, he sticks around, does all the ironing, eats my cooking without complaint, brings me pretty rocks and video games, watches cartoons with me because he likes them too and is funny, cute, supportive, really smart, geeky, fun, and all round awesome.

So, just for the record Joe:

Thanks for being my best-friend.

I learned today that I have limits regarding PDAs – and now I must share it with the Intarwebs and give you something to giggle about:

I went to my local DeSerres store today for some blank cards and clear bags for the fabulous stick people creations that are going to make me tens of dollars.

Anyway, I got the cards and the bags and was waiting for the #10 bus when I saw them – the couple that helped me find the outer limits of what I can just shrug off when it comes to PDA.

He was an older guy, probably early 50′s and she was mid to late 30′s – she’s wearing black high heels, black capris with a shiny belt and a black sweater. I watched him put his hand on the small of her back. Fine – that’s sort of sweet, but then! oh, then – he slipped his hand down the back of her pants and started visibly brushing his fingers across the crack of her bum! IN PUBLIC!!

She kept walking and he kept wiggling his hand down her pants and I couldn’t stop staring – which caused a few people to look at what I was looking at and then quickly avert their eyes.  I finally lost sight of them behind a Brinks truck and that broke the spell.

If Joe ever did that to me I’d tear his arm off and beat him with it. Arm around the waist? Fine. Holding hands? Sweet. Putting your hand down the back of my pants and grabbing my ass – NOT COOL.

Have I missed something? Is exploring your honey’s bum crack the latest way to say I love you?

What do you think? Am I a shriveled up old prude? What are your limits on PDA for yourself and other people?