The Accidental Olympian

TRES AÑOS

One of the topics I naturally stray away from on my blog is my relationship with Adam. Sure, there was that time I told you about how we are capable of getting into screaming matches about picture frames, I've barely scratched the surface on our struggles with finances in relation to our relationship, and I hope in general I've given the impression that I like this man I share my life with very much. But when I look through the archives, I see it doesn't go much deeper than that. 

 

It is so very easy for me to rip open my mouth and spew forth on the screen all my fears, hopes, failures. I can breakdown every thought, feeling and worry to you all. Yet it seems I've found the one topic I don't feel I can share as deeply.

He and I. 

Strangely, that makes it feel so much more important to me. 

 

 

Happy tres años mi amor. 

Hurry home, and don't run over any moose while you're up there in the Great White North. 

DEAR FACEBOOK ADVERTISING NETWORK,

I am not engaged.

I am not currently planning a wedding.

I do not spend my free time researching the perfect honeymoon.

I am not frantically searching for the best bakery in the Seattle area for my wedding cake.

I do not want to know more about environmentally friendly diamond engagement rings. Although, I give you props, because well, blood diamonds are a no go in my book, but still, leave me alone I am NOT INTERESTED.

I most certainly do not need a wedding dress at a discounted rate.

I am also not currently in the market for an event/wedding planner. 

And although I would love to take a trip to Vegas and spend the whole time wasted-face with my closest friends, I am also NOT interested in your bachelorette weekend package.

 

I mean, listen here. Just because I am female, in my 20's, and in a relationship does NOT mean that my only interests are MARRIAGE Facebook advertising network people.

Do you think if I changed my relationship status on Facebook to single suddenly the ads would shift and start being all about discount offers for hip Seattle bars, coupons for the newest and cheapest vibrators, or maybe packages for girls only weekend getaway trips?

Because that sounds a whole lot more up my alley.




Love,

The NOT Dreaming of My Wedding Facebooker, MISS Ashley

SICKY SICK SICK

When Adam and I first started dating, and one of us got sick we were all, "Can I get you something dear? Let me make you soup. Here love, have a tissue." We were trying to show how sweet we could be to one another in a time of need, patting each other on the back, helping out, making things easier for the one who was suffering in an effort to show just how much we cared.

I like to think it is similar to those crazy animal mating dances you see on the Discovery Channel. In turning up the compassion meeter when the other person is sick you are showing your new interest that you are maternal, that you can care for them when they are hurting, and ultimately that you will not let your future children die in a fire or be eaten by badgers. 

Or something.




Now fast forward a few years.

Overnight it pretty much became fall in the Northwest (Hi rain. I didn't miss you.) and as usual, I'm sick. Nothing totally horrible, but enough to make me want to do nothing more than lay in bed and wonder what is wrong with those ladies on The Real Housewives of NJ.

No seriously. What is their deal?

That show is such a train-wreck I kind of don't want it to come back next season.




So Adam comes home yesterday and there I am, tea in hand, laying in bed, watching my tv.

I cough.

He winces.

I scrunch my eyes in confusion because, "What the hell? Does my coughing cause you pain?"

Then I get to hear about how I kept HIM up last night coughing and how he was THIS CLOSE to going and sleeping on the couch, and HOW DARE I continue to cough the entire time I was getting ready for work this morning. I should know better, SENSITIVE SALLY WAS TRYING TO SLEEP THROUGH HIS 14 ALARMS THAT GO OFF TWO HOURS BEFORE HE NEEDS TO BE AT WORK THAT I'VE MYSTERIOUSLY LEARNED TO SLEEP THROUGH BUT SUDDENLY HE COULDN'T'T SLEEP THROUGH LIKE USUAL BECAUSE I WAS COUGHING.

Of course my first reaction is to be angry.

Who the hell is this guy?

I'm SICK if you haven't noticed!



But then I remember how over the last couple years I've become the sort partner where when Adam gets the hiccups, a completely involuntary response, quite similar to say, a cough, I get absolutely livid and have been known to tell him to either hold his breath till that shit stops, or leave the room.

There is also a LOT of eye rolling on my part.

Because obviously he is doing this to make me mad.


We can only conclude that my compassionate maternal instinct demonstrated in the beginning of our relationship was also completely and totally, for show.

I hate it when it turns out we're both assholes.





Ashley, the Accidental Olympian

PERSPECTIVE

All it takes is talking about some of the completely and totally off balanced people I've had the pleasure of dating to suddenly make me so very very THANKFUL for the way everything ended up.

Please forgive the sappy tone.

It's just Adam is out of town all week for work, which sounded like a ton of fun at first. Chick flicks! Bad food! Sleep in the middle of the bed! No snoring! Happy hour with girlfriends! Catch up on Real Housewives and equally horrible, rot your brain tv!

But then I retold the story of tree climbing boy, and it really hit me how strangely it all worked out that after loser after loser after yet another loser suddenly there was one that wasn't a loser at all. And before I knew it he was this thing in my life that was so influential and important and wonderful. 

I guess you indeed do need to kiss a lot of frogs to find... OMG I can't even type that sappy crap.

Adam come home.

The chick flicks are starting to get to me.

Ashley, the Accidental Olympian

COMING OF AGE

Hey Adam, remember last summer when you went golfing with my dad, and the guy at the front desk took one look at the two of you and said, in all seriousness, “So that will be one senior, and one junior, right?” and you almost died at the prospect of being mistaken for being under 14?

I think this will be the year you can finally pay adult prices at the golf course.


 
Although really, you should have let the man under charge you. I mean what’s the point of having a baby face if you don’t work it to your advantage?




 

If it’s ANY consolation at all, when I met you I never once worried about the possibility of going to jail for statutory rape. I figured you at least had your drivers license, and therefore fell under the law as being capable of consenting. 

 

Happy Birthday Adam.

Ashley, the Accidental Olympian