The Man.

I don't intentionally surround myself with women and, for a while, deemed myself incapable of having a genuine friendship with a woman.

But, however it happened, the nearest and dearest, non-biologically-related people close to me have vajays of some form. Except for my best friend. And the "other man." We'll get there.

The Man is my dear hubby-wubby-snookums. Yeah. We call him D. And we have a phenomenal love story. Prepare yourself for projectile vomiting.

D and I met when we were six and seven, respectfully. And I saw this skinny, red-headed quiet kid and I pursued him doggedly. For a couple decades. Surprisingly, this sweet, quiet, popular and intelligent young man didn't find me, with my excessive piercings and blue hair, nearly as appealing. This was high school. Geeze, people. I didn't have blur hair until eighth grade.

Fast forward a few years - college. I'm sitting at my temp job, trying retain some sense of sanity as I repetitively type the same codes over and over. Sooo, of course I got on facebook. In a burst of courage, I added D as a friend. I knew that he would reject me, as he had done million times since we played truth or dare under the neighbor's house. Two hours after that add found me stifling squeals of joy - not only had the man added me, but he had sent me a message. Sure, it didn't have proclamations of undying love, but it had the next best thing: an apology.

D said that he really regretted turning me down in high school, that I had grown into a beautiful woman (I guess because I had to stop dying my hair blue), and asked if we could get together the next time he came home from school.

That was April, 2006. We've been together ever since.

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