Oh Dear...

Crinnnnnge....

Wrote this last night...

So I was reading my stupid trashy magazine and I don’t know what kind of mood I was in. But I was reading an article about stories of how people met and got married. And I kinda thought, ‘Hey, that’s a nice story, I wonder how mine will work out’

Hmm.. maybe it’ll never even work out. I’ll turn into a crazy dog lady! (because I don’t favour cats as much as dogs).

But I kinda thought… ‘Eh, I’ve been keeping it inside me for a while, I need to put this down somewhere’ so this is probably going to be the worst, most, single mushy girly crappy post I’ll ever write in my whole entire lifetime (that isn’t spewing with happiness and smiles).
If I ever get married…

We’d have a history. Our own story to tell, how we met, how we got together, the troubles we’ve been through, the arguments, the complications… everything. And when life is all over and done with, that story is going to be the only one I’ll never tell to anyone else but that significant other.

We’d play the ‘Penis’ game together. For as long as possible, or until we lose our voices.

We’d teach each other, learn from each other.

We’d cook, play video games, watch the clouds go by together.

Share the love of pokemon (and Pikachu, specifically).

We’d share secrets, our own personal jokes. We’d say the stupidest things to each other.

I think it’d be adorable… if my guy got on one knee and said ‘Pikachu, I choose you!’

I know I’d forget from time to time, but I know I’d be very lucky to have someone like him.

He’d put up with my stupid, unreasonable habits, mental associations and my stubbornness.

The wedding would be at Maleny Manor at dawn. The photographer would be Max Wanger.

The honeymoon would last a lifetime.

But in terms of travel, we’d go to Paris for love and breadsticks, London for the city lights and fine cuisine, Italy for pasta and the architecture, Rome for the wishes, hope and art, Greece for the weather and beaches, Japan for the sushi and culture.

Then after that we’d go relax at Cayo Espanto off the coast of San Pedro, Belize in Central America.

Have a few children, a dog or two.

We’d be so horribly fond of each other.

And I’d love who I am with you. Whoever you are.


Something like that. Maybe. I wouldn’t complain.