V - Vampire - #AtoZChallenge

The doorbell rang and Brad dove under the weighted blanket on the couch.

"Okay," he yelled.

The front door opened and sunlight flooded the room as his wife bounced in. Carla closed the door behind her shrouding the room in darkness again.

Brad had been a vampire for just under six months, but they had their routine down. He basically kept the same sleeping schedule as his wife and, due to the pandemic, he already had an online job. They just kept all the curtains and blinds shut tight and Carla had to do all their daytime running.

Brad came out from under his blanket. She kissed him and smiled. 

Brad stepped into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table, "What'd you bring me?"

"I got over a liter of beef blood from the butcher today…and I got you surprise."

Brad's eyes got big. "Really, let's see it."

Carla pulled out a small package wrapped in aluminum foil and set it in front of Brad.

Brad looked up at her, "Is this from Frankie's?"

Carla nodded with excitement.

He opened it quickly to find a chili cheese dog covered in onions. He leaned over the food and inhaled deeply. "You know, it's kind of mean when you do this to me. I love the smell, but I can't eat it."

Carla laughed, "It's not mean. I'm going to eat it and I brought it home so you could smell it first."

Brad pushed it to her side of the table, "That's almost worse."

"Hey, don't give me a hard time. I already gave up garlic for you. I've sacrificed enough."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is V for Vampire.

R - Romance - #AtoZChallenge

Logan removed his suit jacket. He was burning up. He started to loosen his tie, but changed his mind. There was no point in getting getting dressed up to look nice, if he wore his clothes sloppily. Plus, he knew it was just nerves. He took a long sip of cold water to try to calm and cool himself.

Amy had called to let him know she would be late and the waitress kept coming by to see if he wanted to order anything. It was a busy night and they seemed to want to clear the table if no food was being ordered.

"She'll be here soon," he insisted to the waitress. "I'll have a Stella Artois while I wait."

Logan figured ordering something other than water would satisfy the wait staff for a while. He had wanted to avoid alcohol tonight to keep his wits together. Tonight had to go perfectly. He reached to pat his jacket pocket to double-check the ring was still there. He had a moment of panic before he remembered he had removed his jacket, but that pat did show him that he was sweating through his shirt. He put the jacket back on to hide his nervous sweat stains.

He and Amy had been talking about marriage and their future for the last year. He had no doubt she would say yes, but making it official was a big step. Tonight was a big night. He hoped she would arrive before he melted into the floor. Where was she?

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is A for Adventure.

F - Fairy Tale - #AtoZChallenge

 
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a handsome prince. The prince would spend his days riding his horse through the forest and enjoying the beauty of nature. He would go swimming in the lake and meet up with his friends in town to laugh and sing. He had a good life. He had an easy life. He was a very happy prince.

Except for one thing.

His father, the king, was growing older. The king kept reminding the prince that he needed to be married soon and start a family. If the prince did not marry, there would be no one to take his place if something happened to him. There always had to be another son to take the place of the father. Having no king, even for a short time, meant chaos for the kingdom.

The prince never looked his father in the eyes during these talks. "I understand, father."

"I don't think you do. It's not just what would happen IF something would happen to you. It is what WOULD happen. If you are king and don't have a prince son to be the next king, you would be in danger of someone getting rid of you to try to take your place. This is why the next in line must already exist. The good of the kingdom depends on it."

Despite the prince's promises to find a wife, the king began to search for the right woman to one day be queen. He reached out to surrounding kingdoms to inquire about their princesses. He sent word to the lords of his realm to ask about their daughters. Many were interested. Every week, a new announcement was made of an arriving caravan carrying a high-born father who was hopeful about the chance for his daughter to be the future queen and secure an alliance with their families. There were many women who wanted this honor as well. The palace was swamped with requests from surrounding realms to be invited to meet the prince.

The prince always attended these ceremonies and met with every princess and high-born daughter that had traveled to meet him. Some he did not like right away. Others he gave a chance, but a walk through the garden with them helped him realize he didn't want to spend years married to them. He tried to be fair, for his father's sake, but he just wasn't meeting a woman he liked. As the months went by, the king grew more and more impatient. All this pressure made the prince less happy every day.

One morning he saddled his horse early and rode off into the forest to enjoy a quiet day away from the disappointed eyes of his father. Deep in the forest, he got off his horse near a quiet creek to eat his lunch under a tree and listen to the birds singing. Enjoying the sights and sounds of the forest, he soon forgot his troubles and drifted off to sleep.

Soon, he was awakened by someone gently shaking his shoulder.

"Sir, sir, are you alright?"

He opened his eyes and saw a lovely woman standing over him. The prince was smitten immediately. "Who are you?" he asked with wonder.

"My name is Samra. I live just over the hill there. I came to get water today and when I saw you there so still I thought you were were hurt."

The prince was even more in awe at the sound of her voice. He stood up quickly to introduce himself, but his sudden movement startled Samra and she jumped back.

The prince realized he frightened her and started to apologize, but he got a head rush from standing too quickly and started to swoon. Samra immediately stepped forward to steady him. As soon as he felt her touch on his arm, he knew he was in love.

Not wanting to scare her off, the prince decided to play it cool and come back prepared to court her. "It was lovely to meet you and thank you for your kindness. I hope I see you again."

"If you ever come back this way, you probably will. I don't venture far from my home." She flashed him a beautiful smile as he whistled for his horse. He was soon speeding back to the palace to tell his father he had met the woman he was going to marry.

The king was not excited that he had chosen a commoner to be his bride, but training a commoner on how to be royalty was better than having no one as queen. He gave his approval.

The next day, the prince dressed in his finest silks and selected the strongest stallion from the stables. He wanted to display his wealth and influence to impress her. He armored forty aides to accompany him to Samra's house to declare his love to her.

Upon arriving at Samra's house, the aides and assistants lined up in two formations in her front yard. The prince, with his back straight and head held high, rode between the two perfectly-lined groups and called out her name. No one answered.

He called again.

Silence.

He dismounted and approached the front door of the modest cottage. He knocked and heard a feeble voice. "Coming."

After a few minutes, the door slowly creaked open and a frail old man stood in the doorway. "Oh, there are so many of you. What can I do for you gentlemen? Would you all like some tea? Let's see, there's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven..."

"I am here seeking Samra. Do I have the correct house?"

"Samra is my granddaughter. She's at the market right now. I hope she is getting more tea. Come to think of it, I don't think I even have more than four or five teacups. Oh, dear. Where are my manners? Come in. Come in. Oh, no. That won't do at all. I have only two chairs. Stay where you are. I'll be right back."

He turned around to head back into the house. "I'll start the kettle going. You're going to have to share cups."

Exasperated, the prince turned around and saw Samra giving apple slices to his horse.

"Hello, again," she said. "I see you've met my grandfather."

"I did. He is very hospitable." 

"Yes, he is. How can we help you?"

"I wanted to thank you for your concern yesterday and be honest with you."

Samra raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Did you lie to me yesterday? You really didn't say much at all."

The prince continued, "I am the prince of this land. You were helping the future king."

Samra nodded and gave the horse another slice of apple, "Yes. I saw the royal insignia on your sleeve. It wasn't as big and shiny as the one on your chest today, but I recognized it. No need to thank me. I was just asking if you were alright. I did nothing."

"But, Samra, you did everything. You are the loveliest creature I have ever laid eyes on and I have come to ask for your hand and make you my queen."

Samra smiled, "No. Thank you." She turned and headed toward the house.

The prince had never considered that his offer might be rejected. "Wait!"

Samra, almost to the door, looked over her shoulder. "Did you need something else?"

The baffled prince answered, "You don't want to be queen?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it. But I do know I don't want to marry a man I just met yesterday." She stepped inside her house and shut the door.

The prince rode slowly back to the palace with his head hung low. He hadn't experienced much rejection in his life and wasn't handling it well.

When the king heard the news, he couldn't help but laugh at his son. "This girl did not say she would not marry you. She said that she could not marry a man she didn't know. It was an invitation to court her. Go let her get to know you. Show her you are worthy of her hand. Then, she will say yes."

The prince realized his father was right. He would win her. Starting the next morning, the prince spent his days in the forest near her house hoping to run into her. Most days, he was able to see her and talk to her. They took walks through the trees and he occasionally accompanied her to the market. He would even carry her things for her.

One day, after spending several weeks together, she gave him a kiss on the cheek as he was about to depart. "Ah," he exclaimed. "You are beginning to like me."

She furrowed her eyebrows, "Whatever do you mean? I have always liked you."

"You rejected my proposal of marriage."

Samra laughed. "Liking someone you just met and wanting to get married are hardly the same feeling. You seem like a sweet guy. That's enough for now."

The prince didn't like it, but he understood. "So, maybe we could get married someday?"

Samra sighed, "I love my life here. It is so peaceful and quiet. Keeping court behind tall walls sounds boring and stuffy. The clothes look so uncomfortable. Plus, I have my grandfather to take care of. He still asks when all my new friends are coming back to have tea. He had me buy more cups."

"Samra, your grandfather can come to live with us. We'll have dozens of servants to take care of him and us. Life will be great for us, your grandfather and our children."

She looked at him with wide eyes, "What children?"

The prince smiled from ear to ear, "The many children we will have. One will be a son that will be the next king after me."

Samra pulled away from the prince. "I've never really felt that I wanted children. And I certainly would never have a child who already had his whole life planned out for him. That is not a life for anyone. I don't think you should come around anymore. I will never be able do what you want me to."

The prince pleaded with her, but she would not budge. She was very polite, but tried to get him to understand they had very different goals in life. Plus, being royalty is not something everyone yearns to be. The prince went home defeated.

Weeks later, the king came to see him in his chambers to convince him to get out of bed and continue his search for a wife. But the prince didn't want another woman. He only wanted Samra. The king knew the fate of the kingdom was possibly at stake, so he sent for the old witch who lived deep in the woods. He was willing to do anything to get his son into a better mood and moving again.

The witch came and listened to the king's story. She claimed a simple love potion would solve this problem. She returned the next day with a small bag of powder and gave the king instructions on its use.

The king rushed to his son's chambers and explained what he had done. The prince was doubtful, but was cheered slightly to learn that there was still hope of winning the woman he loved. He left the palace that night to do as his father told him.

The prince went to Samra's house and sprinkled the powder on the windowsill of Samra's bedroom. The witch said the person sleeping in that room would fall hopelessly in love with the person who placed the powder. He did his job and went back home.

The prince awoke the next morning to a servant knocking on his bedroom door. There was someone here to see him.

When the prince came downstairs, Samra was there talking excitedly with the king. When she saw the prince she ran into his arms and started kissing him. The witch's powder had worked. Samra was infatuated with the prince.

The prince sent for her grandfather to move into the palace and joyfully started making plans for the royal wedding.

Everyone was in attendance at the wedding. Lords and ladies from all over the realm came to offer gifts and their good wishes. It was the event of the generation. Everything went splendidly.

Within a few months, it was announced Princess Samra was with child and the kingdom rejoiced. 

She gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The prince could not have been more proud of his beautiful wife and son.

However, deep in the woods there was a disturbance among the animals. The old witch, who was very very old, had grown sick. She spent many of her days in bed and the numerous spells she had cast over the years were growing weaker. The animals she had enchanted no longer brought her the herbs and spices she needed for her spells. Some of these herbs were for making the potions she used to prolong her life.

Soon she grew too weak to rise and she died alone in the forest late one night.

At the instant of her death, all the power of her magic died with her. Samra awoke suddenly in the night in terror. She remembered everything she had done for the last few years, but had no idea why. All she knew was that she had been a slave trapped in her own body unable to say and do the things she felt. Her life had been a nightmare as she married this man she had previously rejected. Her body forced her to smile and wave at people who came to see the royal family in court. For years, she had wanted to scream as her unwanted husband bedded her. She had wanted nothing more but to escape, but her body would not cooperate.

She looked over at his sleeping body and felt the hatred rush through her as he slept there smiling. She didn't know how he had done it, but he was the cause of all her suffering for the last few years. The last time she was in control of her own body, she had rejected him. He had to be the one behind it.

She slipped out of bed and picked up the dagger on the table. She tiptoed back to her sleeping husband and slit his throat. His eyes opened and looked at her in fear and confusion as he clutched at his bleeding throat.

She raised the dagger above her head and shouted, "NO MEANS NO!" as she brought it down again and buried it deep in his chest.

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is F for Fairy Tale.

This post was inspired by the idiot who has been leaving all the spam on the blogs I've been reading this week. The spammer keeps suggesting the reader contact a "spellcaster" to make your life better. She uses the story of how her cheating husband came crawling back to her after contacting this person. It disgusted me. This story grew out of that.

You Get a Vial & You Get a Vial & You Get a Vial

Red and I have been married a little over five years and things have been great. We really were made for each other. Despite having moved about a dozen times around three different countries in the short time we have been together, the worst stress we've encountered was when our bedtime routines happened to coincide and I started brushing my teeth a few moments after Red had started.

After a few brief flirtatious smiles in the mirror back and forth, the reality of what was happening came crashing down on us. The unspoken words were instantaneously birthed and started frantically flitting about the tiled room:

"Who's going to brush the longest?"
"Who cares about their dental health more?" 
"First one to stop is disgusting and does not deserve love." 

Today, we won't even enter the same bathroom at the same time. And that works for us.

Despite those occasional moments of crazy, our interactions are typically far from problematic. We work very well together. And we understand each other.

Well…most of the time.

Today, due to a problem we are having with our passports, Red casually mentions, "Well, maybe our new passports not showing up is just God taking care of us because I'm going to be dead in a few days."

Red generally leans toward believing she is currently living her last week on earth. She hasn't been right a single time, but I know she will rub it in my face the first week she is.

Since this is typical of many conversations in our house, I simply replied, "That would be nice to keep us from wasting that money."

This slowly morphed into a conversation about what to do if one of us did kick the bucket. And living in a foreign country, there is much to consider.

• Does the body get shipped back to the States? 
• Is there a need to fly home for some sort of service or does the surviving spouse just make a phone call to their in-laws to give the news?
• If I do have to send my wife's body back, should I pay for the exorbitant shipping or could I just buy an extra seat on the plane and lug her around myself? 
•  Could I get away with folding her in half into a large suitcase and save the extra seat fee?

This all led to the conversation about how my wife wants to be cremated anyway. So, if I could get that done here before heading to America (or shipping her), the cost consideration completely changes. However, for the first time, I started to consider what I would do with her remains after she's been Thanosed into powder.

Do not read anything into this, but I would not be keeping the ashes or displaying them anywhere in the house. This has nothing to do with how I feel about my wife. It is just not me. I also would not have an internment somewhere to be able to go visit and Red's only wishes are that they should go to whoever might want them. This made me realize something I had never considered. Ashes are not like a whole body. There is no law that says they all have to go to one place. They can be split up and sent to as many different places as you want.

OK. Who wanted the dark meat?

This means that anyone who wants a piece can have one. I got online to see how much ash a human body produces and found a formula that told me that my wife would break down into a little over half a gallon of ash. Specifically, between 10 and 11 cups. You can find anything on the internet.

This means I could send a cup to each of her four siblings, a double portion to her parents and still have over four cups left to sprinkle a little into my pancake mix each morning.

Or…I could separate them into much smaller portions and place them in decorative vials to be worn as pendants or carried in the pocket. And before you think this is strange, there is already a market for this.

Click here to buy these in a variety of styles

Little birdseed packets are often handed to people as they exit a wedding to throw at the happy new couple as they leave the service. These Red ash-filled vials could be handed to the visitors as they leave the funeral. The main difference is these can be thrown at anyone since the person of honor will not be making an appearance.

Or…I could sell and ship them to her hundreds of cousins. (She has a very fertile family.) I could even start various bidding wars for family members to prove how much they loved her. The more they're willing to pay, the more Red's memory is honored.

I think I'm onto something. I'm going to start a GoFundMe page to get money for vials.

Marriage is Work

Red and I just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary.

Well, not really celebrated. I contracted food poisoning two days before and spent the next three days doubled over in pain. Most of that time spent on the toilet. It was magical.

I've been suffering with food poisoning for the last 3 days and developed a bit of a toxic relationship with my toilet. So glad it's over. It got much more out of this than I did. I gave and gave and never got anything back.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 5, 2019

So, I guess I can honestly say, we survived our fifth wedding anniversary.

I really wasn't sure I was going to make it.

The fifth anniversary is the 'wood' anniversary and I had so many good jokes saved up about giving her some wood for our anniversary, but the sickness killed it. There's always next year. Although, year six is the iron anniversary. The jokes won't come as easily. Especially since I am slightly anemic.

It has been a great five years. And I have no trouble admitting that I am the reason for that. It has been great because I made sure of it. Here are some of the things I do only because I am married to this wonderful woman.

•  I put my dirty clothes in a clothes hamper. Instead of tossing my smelly unmentionables in the corner (which is more than capable of holding them), I place them in a receptacle that was apparently designed specifically to house them. This is a new practice for me and I don't completely understand the dynamics of how it functions differently than my method, but I do it because it makes her happy.
• I make the bed. I have always been of the opinion that making the bed is the physical manifestation of a non sequitur. The logic just doesn't follow. However, I have been informed that it protects the bed from dust and a negative state of mind. Two things I had never been concerned about before, but I have learned to avoid the latter when possible.
• I use a bath mat. I had never owned one of these before. I thought they were for people with sensitive feet who were afraid to touch cold tile after stepping out of the shower. So, even when one was purchased for me, I stepped over it to avoid dampening its fluffy surface. Now, I know it is to catch the drips. Even though I always thought the drips didn't matter in a tiled room. After all, that's why we don't carpet bathrooms (except gross people).
• I eat a vegetable at least once a week. I only do this one if she is looking. Not going to waste that one.
•  I don't flirt with other women. Why would I? The last thing I would want is to be successful in my effort and then have two women in my house. That would mean two bath mats, two clothes hampers and two vegetables a week. No…thank you.

I am very happy with my life the way it is. In the next five years, I am aiming to convince her of some stuff.

R - Regret

Everyone has those things they regret. It may be words you wish you could take back, an action you did (or did not do), or a reaction you had to something. I know I have several of those. We've all had experiences that we may wish we didn't have to live through. However, there are always those people who like to say "Well, it is your experiences that made you into the person you are today." or "It was those things that led you to this place."

I don't really curse on this blog, but I have to call bullshit. I can't think of a better word today.

While it is true that the culmination of our choices lead us to our present and bad experiences can make us stronger (but just as often weaker), that does not mean we should have taken that path.

My biggest regret in life involved a five-month-long storm in my normally peaceful life. And while I can say that I definitely learned a lot from this experience, I will not claim that my life was improved because of it.

In my early twenties, I frequented a bar near my home almost every day. As a regular, I got to know one of the bartenders. With time, I got to hear more about her miserable life. She was in a relationship with a guy who was controlling and physically abusive. But if she left, she would have nowhere to go and with two small kids, she felt trapped.

Slowly over the course of a few months, her flirting with me began to work. I don't know how many guys she was feeding this line to, but I was the one who fell for it. I decided I was going to be the one to rescue her. I called a couple of my friends one day to get some help so we could show up at her house, pack all her stuff while her boyfriend was at work and get her out of there. She was coming to live with me.

The guys I called for help were the Crew. My closest group of friends. And all of them but one, said no. They would not help. They weren't busy, they just refused to be part of it. A couple of them even told me not to do this.

I did not heed their warnings. In fact, their reluctance to help ticked me off.

But it was more than that. One of them put his finger in my face and started rattling off all the crazy things we knew about this girl. He told me she would be a nightmare and the circumstances of our new relationship would make it ten times worse in the tiny town we lived in. Everything said was true, but it didn't make me any less angry. I would show him. This girl needed help and I would put up with the inevitable storm to be that man who protected her.

I brought her and her kids back to my house where I still had a roommate that I had not checked with first (he moved out within a month). He was one of the first casualties of collateral damage this decision caused.

The backlash was swift. She lost her job immediately since the bar was owned by the father of the man I had just "rescued" her from. Being a small town with barely a hundred people, it was also the only social gathering place around. And I was no longer welcome.

The gossip around town was in full force and we were the focus of all of it. To get ahead of it, she and I got married almost immediately. I married her despite the fact that she and I were having horrible arguments every day. However, I was determined to show everyone (and it was everyone) that they were wrong. And I chalked her moodiness up to the stress of what was happening around us. I told myself I was strong enough to do this.

I had no idea how bad it was going to get.

It turned out she was crazy. And I don't just say that because she is my ex. She was crazy. She would recount the story of an argument we had to her sister and lie about everything that happened. She would do this right in front of me. I learned quickly not to call her out on stuff in front of people because the scene that was caused was not worth it.

She would fly into rages and physically attack me. One time, while trying to deflect her punches, my finger must have caught her lip. Maybe. I really don't know what happened. She might have even hit herself. But she suddenly threw herself on the ground and started screaming about me hitting her. I couldn't see any mark, but I didn't get much of a chance to look before she locked herself in the bathroom. When she came out 30 minutes later, her lip was bloodied and swollen. I knew she had done something to herself in the bathroom.

The next day, I get a phone call from her sister. Her sister told me that my wife had shown up at her house in the morning to show what I had done to her. And the story was epic. It involved furniture flying around the house and the kids screaming to protect their mother while I locked them in their rooms. This story terrified me because I didn't know who else she was telling these stories to. But her sister assured me that she knew it wasn't true. She knew the kids had stayed with their aunt the night before and she didn't believe I would behave in such a way anyway. She told me that she had long suspected the stories she told about her ex were fabricated as well.

Oh, yeah. This whole thing started because I was rescuing her from an abusive relationship. And now she's running around telling people that I am doing those things to her. And I haven't touched her. I began to see her evil ex in a much more sympathetic light. I no longer knew what was true.

I have dozens more stories about psychological manipulation, complex webs of lies that she weaved through many people, enemies that she made for me, more physical abuse (she couldn't get upset without throwing a punch and she was always upset about something), her purposefully depriving me of sleep to punish me for something, and the loss of my friends who wouldn't come around the house if she was there.

It finally came to an end in the middle of one of those big fights. She loved to find what hurt you and focus all her attention on it. She fought dirty and never had mercy. She had pressed and pressed me since I got home from work and wasn't letting up. She had already thrown things and hit me several times and she started again with her cutting words. She stepped up to me with her fist cocked back and something snapped in my head.

I took a step forward reaching for her to put a stop to this. I can't honestly say what I was about to do, but it was not going to be good. I was in a rage and had had enough. But when I started to surge toward her, I saw a glint of glee in her eyes.

She had done it. She finally broke me and she knew it. I was seconds away from sealing the deal with whatever I was about to do to her. And once I did it, she would own me.

This entire realization came crashing down on me. Months of psychological and physical torture had worn me down. I couldn't take it anymore. She had pushed and pushed and pushed and was never going to stop. I knew that sooner or later, I would hurt her. A person can only take so much. I couldn't do this anymore.

I stepped back and felt this sense of relief wash over me. I was done.

Her anger stopped for a moment as she looked at me and I think she sensed what had just happened. Her face contorted into wrath I had not seen yet. She started throwing everything she could get her hands on. She tried to scratch out my eyes. She punched and bit me. I ran out the door and left in my car as the contents of our living room started getting thrown out on to the yard.

I didn't have a plan, but I knew I could never spend another unaccompanied minute with her. Who knows what she might try to claim I've done to her. Getting out of this relationship without further damage would require witnesses from this point forward.

I was driving around trying to figure out where I was going to spend the night when my phone rang. Since it was her, I wasn't going to answer and listen to her apologies. However, she left a voicemail saying that the excitement of the evening had sent her son into an asthma attack. She was going to the hospital. I suspected that this was not true. She loved using her kids as pawns for guilt.

I didn't know where she had gone, but I used the opportunity of her being out of the house to go change the locks. Before the night was over, she showed up with the man I had "rescued" her from. A few threats were thrown around (by her, not him) and just like that, she was living back in his house.

We were legally divorced a week later.

As bad as this situation was, believe it or not, I have not put the worst stuff in here. I have a limit to the darkness I will post on my blog. She is a deeply disturbed woman.

As with every other post I have done this month, I will wrap it up by telling how this person affected me and what I learned from it. Some of this is difficult to admit.

First, I severely damaged my reputation in that small town. That bar where I met her was the only place in town to hang out and meet people and it was permanently off-the-table for me. I don't live in that town anymore, but I'm not sure I would even be welcome there today and it's been over 25 years.

After coming out of such a one-sided controlling relationship, I over-compensated when I later got married. I was so determined to never be taken advantage of like that again. It took a few years to shake free of the baggage I brought into my second marriage. I was super-sensitive about any type of criticism toward me. I did not like to be questioned about anything. I almost wonder if it was a mild form of PTSD. It was a five-month nightmare and I did not come out unscathed.

My friends started coming back around once she was gone and they got to hear the stories about what went on behind closed doors. And I told them that I was hurt they abandoned me. They rightfully defended themselves. They hadn't abandoned me. I had abandoned them. And there was no reason they should be expected to have to sit in a room with a person they hated just to show loyalty to me. They were more than happy to hang out with me anytime she wasn't around. And it's not like I didn't know where they were. But she had worked to alienate me from my friends and I unknowingly let her do it.

They also reminded me that they had all told me to steer clear of her. None of them saw a happy ending to this and I had chosen to ignore them. That is the biggest part of what I take away from all this.

When everyone can see something except for you, you might want to accept that it is you who is blind.

I saw the warning signs before I got married. I saw a few of them before I even "rescued" her, but I decided I knew better than everyone else. And I mean EVERYONE. So many people were against us that I was determined to make it work just to "win" and shove it in their faces. I honestly believe that if no one had said anything, I would have backed out on my own before it was too late.

LIFE LESSON: If you have surrounded yourself with good people who you respect, then their guidance and opinions should carry some weight. Otherwise, why are they your friends?

Thank you to all of you who had my back. I am so sorry I did not listen.

---

This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

N - Now (Red)

Next month, my wife and I will be celebrating our 5^th wedding anniversary. Our marriage has been a whirlwind of adventure. Let me just list some truths about our relationship story.

• I proposed to Red before I had met her or knew her name. I had never even seen a picture.
• I hacked a state database to learn where she worked so I could send her flowers.
• The time frame between us picking a wedding date and the day of the wedding was 8 days.
• One year later, we vacationed in Turkey the week before their military coup. Ankara got bombed days before we were there. A Syrian refugee searched our car one day for bombs before letting us leave his camp.
• We moved to China 17 months after getting married.
• We now live in Vietnam.
• In the short time we've been together, we have lived in three different countries and visited seven. We've seen both U.S. coasts and much of the country in between.

Life has been busy and it has been great, but months ago someone asked me a question that still rattles around in my head.

 "Weren't you concerned that moving to another country might be too much strain for a couple so recently married?"

It was a legitimate question. Moving twelve time zones away to a foreign land is immensely stressful and scary and technically we were still a new couple. But I don't remember being worried about that.

We were honest with ourselves and each other during the moving process. We knew there would be some huge challenges once we got there and we recognized that we didn't even know what those challenges were going to be. We also knew that one of our biggest strengths as a couple is our ability to communicate. We talk to each other.

I mean really talk.

I was concerned about the stress of the move and the adjustments that would be required, but I was not concerned about how it would affect our relationship. I think it goes back to how we started dating.

Red and I met online through each other's blogs. I'm not going to tell the whole story here, but innocent conversations online grew into more. This gave us a chance to get to know each other outside of looking for romance. When the possibility of a relationship began to grow, we threw some hard truths at each other. We even had a 'red flag' conversation. On that phone call, we each admitted things about ourselves that would make us look bad. (For me: I rarely hold a job more than a year, I had two ex-wives, etc)

We candidly stated our stances on social, political and religious issues. We explained how we felt about kids, finances, ethics, family traditions and much more. We just put it all on the line.

We talked in depth about all the things that a lot of couples don't get into for years. I believe we both knew this relationship had the potential to go somewhere and it just needed to all be out in the open. We didn't want to waste each other's time if there was something one of us would not be able to live with. Why wait years to learn something and then break up?

This also caused us to call each other out on some bad communication habits we had each picked up over the years. For myself, she quickly corrected how I respond to questions when I don't appreciate the direction of a conversation. With some honest self-reflection and looking back at how this practice had not been helpful in my last marriage, I was able to change it.

This is just one of the ways that being in this woman's presence has made me a better person.

All of this is also why I was not worried about how we as a couple would handle our big move to China. We had each other's backs and knew that.

I am so in love with my wife and look forward to where the next five years will take us.

---

This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

What Did I Do Wrong?

I love Thursdays.

My teaching schedule is Monday through Thursday, so it is the last day of my work week. Plus, on Thursday nights, I go to an English salon. It is a place where a bunch of Chinese adults get together to hang out with native English speakers and practice their English.

At the very least,
a burger has to be made of ground meat.

I don't know why it's called a salon. The Chinese sometimes have funny names for things. For example, any piece of meat served on something that even slightly resembles bread, they will call a burger.

As near as I can tell, a salon is basically an informal teaching setting. The English salon that I attend is in the front room of a school, but it's set up like a living room. It's usually me and 5 or 6 Chinese locals who all want to talk to me. And this is great for me because I love to be the center of attention. Plus, I'm pretty awesome, so it works out for everyone.

We talk about the differences between China and America. We talk about food. We talk about travel and spend a lot of time talking about American politics. Everybody always wants to know what I think about Trump. The conversation flows freely. There are no suggested topics. It is just conversation that happens naturally. Once again, the purpose of this is just to give them an opportunity to practice their English outside of a classroom setting. I love going to this every week and I even get paid to be there. It's great.

Since I don't have to work the next day, when it is over I am not usually in a rush to get home. My wife, on the other hand, has an early day on Fridays. This is why she never attends these events and is generally in bed pretty early. Since she will be in bed when I get home anyway, I often find excuses to find something to do. Sometimes I wander the streets and call one of my friends back in the States. Some weeks, I will go try out a new restaurant or explore a new part of the city I've never seen. Last night, I just decided I would walk home instead of taking the subway.

It's only 9 subway stops. No big deal. Right?
It's over 7 miles, but I didn't know that yet.

The school is right next to the subway stop and the number 10 subway runs right under the Third Ring Road. I live next to that same road. All I had to do is follow the road and I would see some parts of the city I'd never seen above ground. I popped into a convenience store to grab a Pepsi and started be-bopping up the road. I enjoy exploring big cities and this night was no different.

About 20 minutes into my walk, I started to become very aware of the 96 degree temperature, but was determined to push on and I kept walking. I walked and walked and walked and walked while the sweat poured into my eyes. It was miserable, but I began to see this as a challenge to overcome and stayed my course. I maintained my quick pace and made it back to my apartment building in just over two and a half hours.

I was so happy to step into the elevator and begin the ride up to my shower. The ride seemed to take forever due to the Chinese belief that air conditioning is unhealthy and I no longer had the benefit of the night breeze. I was roasting in that metal box. I finally hit the eleventh floor and found my way to our apartment in the dark (the Chinese also seem to have some belief about light being bad for you). I turned the handle and pulled the door only to discover that it was locked.

Red doesn't lock the door on Thursdays before going to bed because the sound of me unlocking it always wakes her up, but it appeared this week she had changed her mind. I dug out my keys and tried to turn the lock slowly to keep the noise down, but the key turned too easily.

It wasn't locked.

I tried the door again and realized she had locked the bolt on the inside. The bolt cannot be unlocked from the outside. It is a hand bolt on the inside only.

Crap! Now, I'm going to have to wake her up.

I knocked on the door while also being careful not to disturb our neighbors. After all, it was after midnight. There was no answer. I knocked again louder, waited 30 seconds and then knocked even louder. Nothing.

I pulled out my phone to call her, hoping that she had not turned the sound off. As I started to dial, I thought, "Wait. Is she mad at me? Is that why she locked me out?" I started running through the day's events in my mind to think of what I might have done.

• I ordered food to be delivered while she was in the shower without checking to see if she wanted anything.
• When she apologized to our Chinese teacher for distracting the lesson by talking too much, the teacher said, "Oh. It's not a problem." I was too quick to say, "Just wait."
• I had bragged all day due to all the retweets my joke about her squishy boob was getting on Twitter.
• When our attractive female Ukrainian friend suggested Red use some of Red's essential oils on her, I asked if I could watch.

No, it couldn't be any of that. I do that kind of stuff all the time and I'm precious.

I called her phone. No answer. I sent her a text message. I left a voice message on WeChat (Chinese social media app). I called again. Nothing.

I knocked on the door much harder. I have to wake her up (or apologize). After several more attempts, I began to realize that I was not going to be spending the night in my bed.

I started looking around for a place to lie down and quickly ruled out lying on the filthy concrete floors in our hallway. I was going to have to go outside, find a bench and ride this out until morning.

I checked my phone. It was at 40%. I figured if I stayed off my phone, then when she does wake up and realize I'm not there, she will probably call or text to find out where I am. If, and only if, I haven't drained my battery, I would get the call letting me know that she was now awake. I didn't know where I was going to go, but I knew I was tired and hot and really needed to get back out to that breeze and find a place to ride out the night.

My sweaty hands made my finger slide off the elevator button when I pressed it and I began contemplating what a miserable night this was going to be. This was going to suck. As I waited for the elevator, I thought I'd use those last few seconds trying again. I knocked one more time and then immediately again hoping to further register the sound in her sleepy mind, but still got nothing.

Defeated, I lumbered back toward the elevator. As I waited, I heard a small click behind me. She was fumbling with the lock! I ran back to the door. "It's me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that or eaten all the food or tweeted about your boobs. Please let me in."

The door slowly swung open and she's crouched down covering her naked body with her hands and peering into the dark hallway. As I stepped inside, I could see that she wasn't really awake yet. "Why are you crouching like that?"

She said, "I'm naked and didn't know who it was."

"And you opened the door anyway. I love you. Go back to bed. I need a shower."

U is for Unfashionable

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

---

I have absolutely ZERO fashion sense. I don't know what goes with what, what colors are to be worn during which seasons, what 'business casual' means, or why there are rules about when you can and cannot wear white. I just wear what I want to wear when I want to wear it and don't really care what anyone else thinks about it.

If you haven't already guessed, this trait (or non-trait) doesn't bother me in the least. I have been given a hard time about my clothing choices my entire life and they haven't really changed any. However, I do want to make clear that I am not a slob. I just don't have any desire to dress up or have any 'flair'. I am a jeans and a t-shirt kind of guy. I've not been able to test this theory, but I am of the belief that if I ever become rich I will still be a jeans and t-shirt guy. I'll just have a thicker wallet.

A few years ago, I was told by a co-worker that I would probably get more interest from the ladies if I dressed better. I scoffed and explained to him that any woman who would not want to date me based on my clothing choices is not a woman I would want to date. He then said I would never get a quality woman. However, I believe we had very different definitions of what 'quality woman' meant. I base this observation mainly on the 'quality' of his last two women. No thank you.

My wardrobe is a reflection of who I am. I'm laid-back, easy-going, and low-stress. I take care of myself, but don't go out of my way to put on appearances. I'm not trying to impress anyone. A woman who recognized that and would be happy with it is the type of woman I wanted. Clothing should not be part of the consideration.

Eventually, I met her and two years later we were married.

In jeans and a t-shirt, even on my wedding day,
but it was a nice t-shirt.
The light sabers were for a totally different reason.

Now, she is a quality woman.

H is for Husband

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

---

My first blog post was on October 11, 2010. About 16 months later (February 2012), I got my first comment from a particular blogger. Since I always try to visit the blogs of the people who comment on mine, I read a few of her posts and left some comments over there. We were regular readers of each others' blogs until she wrote a particular post which really spoke to me. So, I proposed to her in her comment section.

This proposal was meant to be a joke and was taken as such, but we ran with it for a while. We lived over 900 miles apart and would never meet each other, but were happy to claim each other as our internet fiance. Since this was all online and not in person, I was able to hide behind relative anonymity and flirt shamelessly. Since we would never meet, what was the harm?

A few months later, due to some family concerns, she ends up moving from the East Coast to the Midwest. She was then less than 200 miles from where I lived. With this new development, I mustered up all my courage and suggested we meet in person. After attempting to prove that I was not a psycho and calling in literally dozens of character witnesses, she was convinced. We met halfway and had a very good day. I even suckered a kiss out of her.

After several more months of dating, I eventually moved to Indianapolis to be closer and complete my graduate degree. Then, in May 2014, we were married. It's been an awesome two years since then.

I started this blog because my daughter boyfriend at the time talked me into doing it. I just enjoyed expressing myself. I didn't expect to find a bride, but I'm glad I did. Thank you, Alex.

I'm Told It's Like Riding a Bike

I'm beginning to fear that I have forgotten how to write. Something is different. I have spent the last couple of weeks prepping for the A to Z Challenge and pre-writing many of the posts. I have also spent considerable amount of time reading many of my older posts and there is a significant difference between my writing today and the writing I was doing as recently as two years ago.

The humor and sarcasm just isn't coming to me as easily as it did before. My writing feels flat and I'm not sure what to do about it. I have been compiling the book that I want to write this year and have the entire story worked out, but don't want to start the writing until I feel that I have regained that snarky voice that I used to have. I thought that, maybe, I was just out of practice, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's something more. So, I have made a list of things that have changed since I last appreciated the results of my writing.

• I have moved from Illinois to Indiana.
• My kids have moved out.
• I have gotten married.
• I got a vasectomy.

 Let's examine these separately.

I have moved from Illinois to Indiana. To people outside of the Midwest, it may seem like the Midwest is the Midwest and there really isn't any difference. From Nebraska to Ohio, it's all the same. Well, you could not be more wrong. Well, I guess you "could" be more wrong. If you said eating a dog turd was no different than flying a helicopter that would definitely be more wrong. So, let's just say that your way of thinking is does not align with the facts. You cannot honestly compare a small farming town with inner city Chicago or Cleveland (you really shouldn't compare anything with Cleveland). The personality of the big cities aren't even the same. Davenport, Iowa is nothing like Cincinnati, Ohio. Louisville, Kentucky is considered the 8th largest cultural center in the country. Bet you didn't know that. Omaha has nothing in common with Chicago…and Illinois and Indiana are not the same.

For instance, while Indiana has its issues, Illinois is in a class almost by itself. Do a Google search for the most corrupt states in the country and Illinois is always in the top five. Several polls rank Illinois at the second most corrupt. Usually beaten out only by Arizona. Yes, I was born and raised in the state that had to put 4 out of its last 7 governors in prison. My home state. And I saw it in my county and town as well.

With all this cheating and lying being displayed by my trusted leaders, it's no wonder sarcasm and talking out the side of my mouth came naturally to me. However, now I live in Indiana which has become known as the bigot state since I have moved here. This is thanks to the RFRA Law which was passed last year. Whether someone is for or against this law, the arguments on each side have been blown way out of proportion and it has become one of those issues that causes many people to just avoid discussions about it. Regardless of your stance, a public expression of your opinion will bring a storm of vitriolic condemnation your direction. So, maybe I'm not as loose with my lips fingers as I used to be.

I also went from small town living to living in the big city. Indianapolis is the 13th largest city in the country with over 850,000 people. Since I grew up in the country outside of a town of about 700, that takes some getting used to. It's taking much longer to learn everyone's names than I expected.

Next, my kids have moved out. This is a significant life change. So many of the blog posts I wrote centered around my kids. Plus, they kept me on my toes. They didn't just give me things to write about, they drove me crazy. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. My mind had to be sharp to keep up and make sure they didn't get away with anything. However, I am much better rested now. No more staying up late wondering where they are and coming up with schemes to make their lives miserable. I'll bet they miss me.

I have gotten married. Now, this is a huge life change. I actually met my wife through this blog and every step of our meeting and dating process can be found in some of my earlier posts. However, once we lived in the same state, my writing really slowed down and once we got married, I only posted 5 times in the entire next year. FIVE TIMES! This is from a guy who posted every single day for 3 months straight.

I've noticed there's a lot less pizza boxes and burrito wrappers around my chair since I've gotten married.

Haven't figured out why yet.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) June 14, 2015

Now, getting married may have slowed me down, but I doubt it is what removed the humor. My wife and I spend a lot of time laughing and the jokes never seem to stop coming. I just wasn't writing for a while. She also sees to it that I get out of the house now and then to have an adventure. I've seen and experienced plenty of things worth writing about.

Last, I got a vasectomy. I actually paid someone to take a scalpel and cut into my ball-sack and root around in there. This was a less than pleasant experience, but it didn't last very long. I was soon back up on my feet, but this was also during the time when I wasn't writing and I wonder if that may have been the moment that something left me.

I know that I am now sterile, but could it be in more way than one? Could he have snipped a nerve that contributes to my funny? Where did my funny even come from? I've heard it said many times that men can only think with their penis. If that's true, it's very possible that this surgery severed the route to my typing fingers and changed everything. The Road to Gonad has been permanently closed.

I feel like I'm on to something, but it will take a little experimentation to test this theory. Stay Tuned.

Mr & Mrs Transformed Nonconformist

Four months! 

It's been over four months since my last post. A lot can happen over four months. A lot has happened. I've really dropped the ball. Let me try to give a quick recap of what I have not written about.

My daughter left high school with a bang.

Valentine's Day has come and gone, as well as St. Patrick's Day. I got a job in the Indianapolis Public School system. Spring Break is over. Summer vacation has started. My daughter graduated high school. Orange is the New Black has released season two onto Netflix. Russia invaded the Ukraine. An 18 year old girl in New Jersey lost the case against her parents when she sued them for college tuition. The Big Bang Theory got picked up for three more seasons. Casey Kasem died and I got married.

I'm not going to try to cover all of that in this post. One thing at a time. Let's start with the last item on the list. I got married.

OK. It's 7 o' clock. Let's compare stories. I got married today. Who can top that one?
— Brett Minor (@brettminor) May 4, 2014

I am sure that I have lost some followers since my writing has drastically slowed in the last year, but my long-time readers know that on May 2, 2012, I met face-to-face with Red of Doesn't Speak Klingon. Before that, we met through our blogs, we conversed in the comment sections. We traded emails and eventually started making phone calls. We then dated for almost two years while living 200 miles apart.

Last December, I moved to Indianapolis to take advantage of some educational opportunities to finish up my degree. I moved to a big city for these opportunities. I chose Indianapolis because that was where Red lived. We had already seriously discussed marriage, but there was nothing official. I thought it would be nice to get to date while living in the same town. Those bi-weekly commutes were hard on both of our wallets.

It didn't take long before we knew marriage was in our future. We just needed to decide when. Neither one of us was interested in the ceremony, but didn't want to exclude family either, so eloping or just going to a courthouse was out of the question. We had the end of the summer in mind. I would have just finished my degree and she would be moved into a bigger place ready for me to come join her.

Once we got her moved in, we were just waiting for the time to pass. I had my place, she had hers, and we knew we would be married in 3 to 4 months. However, no one else knew that. We had decided to keep it quiet so it could be ours and no one else's. We wanted no family input on how it should be done, what food should be served, what should be worn, or who should be invited. We just wanted to be married. We didn't know when it would happen, but we did know we wouldn't be giving much notice to anyone.

One Saturday morning, Red was discussing the travel plans of her sisters. They were both going to be in town the following weekend. Her family is so spread out, they are very rarely all in the same place. Her brothers aren't even in the country. So, I suggested doing it the following Sunday.

Red: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Sure. Why not?"
Red: "OK!"
Me: "Great! We're getting married in eight days!"

I quickly called Chuck, a local minister friend of mine, to check his availability. We then called Red's parents to tell them our plans and get permission to do it in their backyard. We called our immediate family members and assured everyone that nothing was needed but their presence. For the people who like to stress about these types of events, we had provided them with the gift of only getting to stress for eight days.

We did get some questions.

"Would you like me to pick up some ___________?"
"No."

"Hey. Should I bring a ____________?"
"No."

"How about if we get a few _____________?"
"No."

Red and I had decided that more "stuff" and involvement would just make the event bigger and more stressful with things to plan. We were going to show up at her parents' house after church with some pizzas and soda for everyone and when they all got there, get married. That was a simple plan and we wanted it to stay that way.

We only put effort into three things.

1. Red SOLO cups - we specifically had red SOLO cups simply because someone told us that we couldn't (not one of the guests or family).
2. We purposefully mismatched the plates we used. I had a 10-pack of Happy Birthday, 10-pack of sports themed, 10-pack of underwater themed, and 10-pack of Disney princesses. This was done to demonstrate that we were not concerned with protocol or appearance.
3. We begged everyone to not mention the ceremony to anyone or put it on social media. We wanted to announce it after the fact. Everyone respected our wishes.

Red's mother did get us a beautiful cake and one of her sisters bought items for the best man, maid of honor, and cheerleader to hold (we had a cheerleader instead of a flower girl).

Notice the casual style.
(Except for the cheerleader's tiara and my tuxedo t-shirt)

It occurred to us after picking the date that May 4th is Star Wars Day.

"May the Fourth (force) be with you."

Get it? Plus, since Red is a huge Star Wars geek, it turned out to be the perfect day to do it. That's why there were light sabers. Thank you, Hestia.

We had 15 guests (plus the minister and his 6 kids), a day that could not have been more beautiful, and every family invited was able to make it. Plus, our main goal for the day was accomplished. We were married.

I only met this wonderful woman because
I started a blog in October 2010.

What Would You Change?

On November 27, I asked my readers to submit questions for me to answer. This post is to answer the question posed by Good Youngman Brown.

How do you feel about death/dying?

If you died this very second, what would be your biggest regret? Biggest success?

These are some deep questions and I am not sure that I have the answers to the second part even after days of careful reflection, but I will try. Let's tackle these one at a time.

I am not scared of dying. Not even a little bit. I know a lot of people say this and I can't speak for them, but I mean it. I may be scared of certain ways of dying. I obviously would be terrified of being slowly swallowed by an anaconda or being trapped in a burning building, but it is the pain associated with that kind of death that would scare me. The death itself does not scare me

I don't bring up my faith on this blog very often, but this question goes right to the heart of it. I know without any doubt what I will be doing after death and it is nothing to fear. I have given my life over to Jesus and declared him as my Lord (Boss). Through following him I have been forgiven of my sins (there have been a lot) against God and other people. Being cleansed of my sin, I can stand in the presence of God in the place He created for me. I am not on a suicide mission, but I can't wait to get there.

That question was the easy part. The second half is the portion I have really struggled with.

REGRETS

• I hate that I have been divorced twice. I despise that as being part of my past. I wouldn't want to just write the past off, but there are many, many regrets associated it. My first marriage was a five month long nightmare that should never have happened. My second was happier at times, but was filled with mistakes, dishonesty, lack of trust and hurtful words on both sides. I have many regrets tied to the entire experience.
• I often reflect on the fact that I am over 40 years old and never gotten my act together career-wise. I have jumped from job to job my entire life and haven't gotten anywhere. I believe that I've finally found my focus and am on track for the first time in my life, but due to past experience I have little confidence that I will stick with it.
• This one is more reflective contemplation than regret, but I look back at how I raised my kids almost daily. Did I do a good job? Did I spend enough time with them? Were they aware of how much I loved them? Despite the turmoil of my marriage, did we provide a happy home? Have I provided them with the tools they will need to survive in the real world? Was I supportive of their dreams or did I crush their spirits? Did I provide the proper balance of discipline? Was I too lenient? Did I mold them into happy, productive, functioning members of the adult world? These are tough questions.

SUCCESSES

• I am proud that I finally completed my degree. I didn't get that piece of paper in my hand until 14 years after I started it, but I got it.
• I am happy that despite whatever other mistakes I have made with my children, they are happy and know how to enjoy life. I am a very positive and happy person and I love that it seems to have rubbed off on them. Their lives will be much easier simply because of that positive attitude.
• My proudest accomplishment is in knowing that my children love the Lord and their eternities have been secured. The most important decision that could be made in their entire lives is already behind them and nothing else matters nearly as much. If I were to die today, that part has been taken care of and we will all see each other again.

This was a hard post to write and I was choked up through most of it, but self-reflection is a good thing. Thank you, Youngman Brown for the questions.

Crossing State Lines

My daughter Kirsten is sixteen and a junior in high school. She has two years left before she will be headed off to college and I will have this house all to myself. However, today marked one of those milestones that made her want to go right now. Her boyfriend Charles left for college this morning.

His school is about a six hour drive from here in another state, so they will not be seeing each other regularly on weekends. He might make it back home once or twice in a semester. I have split feelings about this.

I have had a couple of years to get used to the idea of my daughter having a boyfriend. I can even witness him kiss her with only a minimal spike in my blood pressure. I have tried to teach my daughter to be strong and independent. I raised her to know who she is and not to ever be defined by her relationship with another person or to allow her tastes, opinions, feelings or desires to be decided by someone else, whether that be a person or societal expectations. She is growing to be that woman and I couldn't be more proud of her.

The topic of Charles leaving for college came up last week over dinner and another adult advised Kirsten to move on and live her life. Do not put her life on hold and wait for him. This advice goes right along with the spirit of the lessons I have taught my daughter over the years and I couldn't agree more....sort of.

While the adult side of me sees the rationale in the advice and I would probably give the same advice to any random teenager, I have a selfish father side as well that wants to protect my daughter. While he is away at college and she decides that he is the man for her, that means she is not dating anyone else. I have absolutely no problem with that. She is basically not dating as long as he is her boyfriend and school is in session. No father would complain with those circumstances.

On the other hand, should a sixteen year old be making this type of commitment? You only get to be young once. Would this be considered putting her life on hold for a boy?

I have decided I have no problem with this and there is one main reason for it. I like this kid. Kirsten has not had a lot of boyfriends, but of the ones she has dated, only two have been quality guys. The last one moved to Georgia. There were a few that were okay. They weren't bad kids, they just took up space. There have been a couple I really did not like. One of them was so bad, I forbid her from ever seeing him again. Yes, I am that type of father. It was for her protection. That kid was trouble.

I wish our culture recognized the wisdom of arranged marriages. Then, I could just forbid her from dating until I found the perfect man for her. I would do a bang-up job, but very very few would make the cut.

The guy she is dating now is great and is the reason I have no problem with this. As long as she considers herself his girlfriend, she is not bringing home some other idiot. Plus, he really is a great kid. His parents were my youth ministers when I was in high school and his father baptized me. I am well aware of the stereotype about preacher's kids, but it is just a general rule of thumb and does not always apply. Charles is attending a Christian college to prepare to be a missionary. He is well mannered, respectful, courteous, never rude and very funny. Most importantly, he treats my daughter very well.

It is these and other qualities that make me happy to see that she is holding on to him. Kirsten is only sixteen and I am not trying to get her married off. It's too soon to think about such things, but one day she will end up with someone. With each guy she has brought home, I couldn't help but imagine what her being married to him would be like. Most of the time, I haven't liked the future I saw for her. Wanting the best for my daughter, I am happy to see that she has found a quality man. As long as she is with him, she is not with some other random douchebag.

I am not suggesting that she needs to marry Charles. Once again, it is too early for that kind of talk, but it is comforting to see that she recognizes what a good guy he is. I am totally supportive of this relationship, but don't tell him.

Meet the Parents

It has been a couple of weeks since the last time I addressed the saga between my internet fiance Red and myself. There are no exciting new developments to reveal, but we have been communicating privately via email. It has been removed from the public blogging spotlight for a couple of reasons. One of them is the fact that there are real people behind these words. While it has been a lot of fun watching this unfold on our blogs, in order to keep the new developments exciting to read about, it would have to move at a much quicker pace. It just doesn't work like that.

That doesn't mean our followers are to be left out. You will be kept in the loop. Of course, what is or is not shared is totally at our discretion, but you will hear things from time to time. Today is one of those times.

Almost two weeks ago, Red announced that she will be moving to Indiana, which is 900 miles closer than her present residence. In that same post, she explained why meeting with her parents, especially her father, may not be a good idea right now. We may be engaged in the virtual world, but the transition to the physical world has different rules.

Parents can be  tricky. Whether it is meeting a friend's parents or the parents of a girl for the first time, that first meeting carries a lot of weight. There are a couple of my daughter's past boyfriends that I did not like immediately. I understand. Not only is the impression from that first meeting important, but so is the timing. There are so many things that can go wrong and if the family (especially parents) doesn't like the new person, it can lead to a lot of trouble.

On Christmas Day in 1995, I was sitting in a room filled with my new in-laws. I had just gotten married the previous September and while I knew my wife's immediate family, I had only met most of these extended family members briefly at our wedding. The room was filled with her aunts, uncles, cousins and some grandparents. Since my wife was helping in the kitchen, I was on my own. They were very friendly, but I couldn't help but feel under dressed. While they were all dressed in nice sweaters and cardigans, I was in my usual jeans and t-shirt. The room was also very calm and quiet. It was quite different from the loud ruckus that happens when my family gets together.

Being the newest addition to the family, a lot of attention was directed toward me. They wanted to hear about my upbringing, my parents, my job and anything else they could think to ask me.  It wasn't an interrogation, they just wanted to know more about me, but it did get tedious after a while. They all appeared to be so cultured and proper, I answered carefully, not sure if they would be appreciative of my perspective and sense of humor. I was feeling them out the same as they were doing to me. Needless to say, I was relieved when the attention shifted to a cousin who had arrived late.

One of the aunts asked about the beautiful sweater she was wearing. The cousin explained that her husband had given it to her that morning for Christmas. She then called him in so she could show off the slacks she had bought for him. The whole room began to share with each other the various pieces of clothing they had received as Christmas gifts. Eventually, someone asked me.

"Brett, are you wearing anything you got for Christmas?"

This was the first time all day that I felt I could actually contribute to their conversation without it feeling forced. I stood up and boasted, "Yes, I am."  Without thinking about where I was, I began to undo my belt.

Let's pause right here for a moment!

I did have on a Christmas gift. Just that morning, I had been given a pair of stars and stripes boxers with a big happy face on the front. I didn't normally wear boxers, but these were cool and I was happy to put them on right then. Since we came to join the extended family right after that, I still had them on.

I unfastened the button on my jeans and dropped my pants to the floor to show off my Christmas present. I raised my arms above my head and spun around so everyone could see them.

STUNNED SILENCE!!!

I immediately come to the realization that this crowd does not know me and may not appreciate my underwear even if they did know me. I pull my pants back on and quietly take my place on the couch. Still, no one is talking, and the aunt and cousin that were sitting next to me created extra space between us on the couch. Grandma is still staring at me with her mouth hanging open. Did I break her brain? 

What feels like several minutes goes by and still no one is speaking. Suddenly, my mother-in-law walks in to the room to announce that dinner is ready. I immediately jumped up to get out of there, but she was blocking the door. Looking around the room, she inquires, "What happened in here?" Her sister speaks up, "You will not believe what your new son-in-law just did."

She had been around me longer than the rest of the family and immediately blushes and looks at me, "What did you do?" She didn't know what had happened, but knew it couldn't be good and she was not happy.

While they were all looking at each other trying to decide who was going to say it, Grandma starts to laugh. Since Grandma was laughing, I guess that made it okay for the others to find humor in what had just transpired as well, but their laughter was very reserved and nervous. 

Grandma said, "Linda, I like this boy." 

About six hours later, I am sitting in a room full of my family relaying this story and they demand to see what the problem was. Their reaction was much different.

My family pulled out cameras.

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That may have been almost 20 years ago, but I still remember the lesson I learned that day. I believe it still applies today.

Red, I can promise you that if this proceeds to the point that I need to meet your parents, I will not remove my pants. That should be saved until at least the fifth or sixth meeting. I will leave that up to you. You obviously know them better than I do. I can adapt.