Today marks the one year anniversary of the boyfriend and mine's first date. On the surface, our first date was nothing outrageous. We went to dinner and then a walk around the park. However, I felt like our date is what Hollywood movies are made of; magical without the 3-D effects or pyrotechnics.
I'm not sure how I have managed to hide my psychotic personality from him for so long but it seems to be working. He has yet to run for the hills or gather the village people to hunt down the monster that dwells inside me.
Every woman has it inside her to be normal one minute and then a complete basket case the next. Most of us do a good job of keeping the Wicked Witch of the West hidden but sometimes guys can be guys and the only solution is to open a can of whoop ass and get crazy. The boyfriend, while very much a guy (and sometimes has the humor of a 12 year old boy), has yet required the open can of whoop ass. Kudos to him, but more of a kudos to me for looking beyond the typical guy behavior and being appreciative of his good nature, good looks, and good sense of humor.
It also helps that I read Dave Barry's Guide to Guys. Barry's book breaks down the guy's need to race lawn mowers into a way that women can understand it. Simply ... guys are idiots. Barry's words, not mine.
My boyfriend is not an idiot but he is a guy. A guy who I appreciate for making me laugh during a rough week, enjoying nerdy documentaries as much as I do, and reminding me that life is too short to not enjoy every minute. I'm fortunate to call the boyfriend mine ... including all of his guyness.