I obviously won the footrace, only to find pictures of bridesmaids dresses, cloth swatches, and a guest list. Holy shit! My contributions so far have been mostly been contrived of insisting on playing drug riddled songs by KiD CuDi during the ceremony and deciding that maybe a mariachi band specializing in metal music might just be the right choice for us. The thing is, she went along with all of my decisions. She's willing to put up with quite a bit of my shit.
Here is one example:
Before I proposed, we went to bubble gum alley to see The Lord of the Cello Marston Smith wail in the streets of downtown San Luis Obispo. He is armed with an electric cello, light box and one bitching fan. I mean, the air moves through this guy's hair like a Kansas tornado as he croons the women in his golden breastplate of armor. There are even videos of him playing atop a mountain, in complete Yanni fashion.
After insisting that maybe he had just played "our song", she continued to speak to me. I was baffled. Soon after, we settled near the pier at Avila, where a Dr. Seuss quote won her back to my side.
So, I have concluded that this woman does really love me, which is no easy task. I still have the freedom to insert KiD KuDi songs into the ceremony, which I never thought would really happen. On top of this, I have complete freedom in naming our first born son, unequivocally. I'm leaning toward Maximum Force Wood, but am open to suggestions. I am also curious if there are any proven ways to insure a male is born, though I will love all of my children no matter the sex. Really...let me know, though.
Here's the deal. She still finds me as a compatible mate. Even after my family hesitated to congratulate us (only slightly) because of our announcement on April Fool's Day, she is still in. Campy street performers can't even drive her away. I'm starting to become grateful of the little black book she so diligently chased me around the car to gain possession of, unsuccessfully. They say the Devil is in the details, and she has the Devil on a short leash. As a man, unable to fully gain focus on these details, I am extremely lucky to have a beautiful woman to come in and tighten the slack.