When Hubby and I first began dating, we were in denial. Neither one of us wanted a serious relationship and we were definitely not looking to fall in love. When someone would refer to him as my boyfriend, I would loudly protest that we were JUST DATING and that he was NOT my boyfriend.
In fact, I was relieved when he would be unable to attend my friend Mimi's wedding with me. I was a bridesmaid, knew 3/4 of the guest list and was looking forward to dancing with her young, hot co-workers. Hubby was attending a huge paintball tournament in Oklahoma that weekend. I went to the wedding and had a fantastic time.
In fact, I had such a fantastic time that when my friend Todd dropped his champagne glass, I quickly hopped up to find a server to clean it up. But after having had so much fantastic champagne myself, I forgot that I wasn't wearing any shoes. (I'd taken off my killer heels) I sliced my foot open on a piece of glass. But because I was having such a good time, I just wrapped it in a towel and kept dancing.
I noticed that it was still bleeding when I went home that night, but I just wrapped it in gauze and
When I woke up with a killer headache the next morning, I noticed that it was still bleeding. And that I had trailed blood up my carpeted stairs. I decided to hit the ER. They cleaned out all the glass and stitched my foot up - while they were laughing at me. The doctor tried to lecture me about cut care, but he was laughing too hard.
Anyway, I went home and set myself up on the porch. I got myself a diet pepsi, a new ashtray (yeah, yeah, I know), a pile of books and propped my foot up. I couldn't face cleaning the trail of blood through my house. Hubby came over that night, after a long day of paintball and driving.
He got me food. He scrubbed the blood out of my carpet. He re-bandaged my foot.
And I stopped protesting when people called him my boyfriend.