Why, who is that handsome devil?
32 years ago, as we drove to the Silver Bells Chapel in Las Vegas, I looked over at the man of my dreams and thought. Oh my gosh, I'm getting married. (this was before I swore like a sailor)
Yes, you read that right. 32 years ya'll. (I like to talk like some of my southern buddies)
My parents weren't very happy about me marrying Mr. Dazee. He wasn't of "our faith". Because they weren't overly excited about the whole thing, we decided to go to Vegas to get married. Too bad for them, it was really nice, and quiet, and emotional.
You know what? I love him more today, than I did 32 years ago. We've had our ups and downs. Any normal couple does. He has put up with a lot from me. Of course, that goes both ways, right honey?
Mr. Dazee is the kind of guy that most mothers want their daughter to marry. He has never abused me in any way, shape or form. He makes me feel sorry for women who have horrible, rotten, no good, very bad husbands. We still hold hands all these years later. He makes me giggle/snort with his dry sense of humor. Believe me, we've had more dates to Home Depot, just because I love to be with him.
The best thing about him. He gets me. He gets my craziness, my weirdness, my tears, my anger. And he still loves me.
Happy Anniversary Honey
