One of my favorite things about being in a (long-term [in parenthesis here because I am still not sure if 16 months constitutes long-term status, but for me it does!]) relationship is being there for the first time someone experiences/does something. And, I’m not talking about sexy-time firsts, I mean everyday things that one person has always done.
For example, Shaggy had never tried gnocchi before meeting me. I’ll let that sink in for a minute… I know, right?! Lucky for me he likes it because it’s my go-to cooking staple when I don’t feel like putting too much effort into dinner. He also had never tried red velvet, but he’s not a fan so I pretend he has still never tried it. I mean, who can be with a man who doesn’t like red velvet. I know I can’t, so blinders are definitely in order!
Before Shaggy. I had no idea there was a difference between Indy and NASCAR, now it’s something I correct people on all the time. Truth be told, I actually enjoy watching racing and I have had fun at almost all the races I have been “dragged” to. I’m all about statistics and strategy and racing satisfies that side of my brain…plus, some of the drivers are little pint-sized hotties!
One thing does make me a little sad though. I don’t regret anything in my life because it all led me to where I am now (blah blah blah), but it would have been pretty great if Shaggy would have been the first guy I lived with. I’m his first and sometimes I wish I hadn’t had the other experience since this one is so great. But, the flip side of the coin is that my past epic fail has taught me to really appreciate what a great roommate the current BF is. Oh and I got my sweet doggy out of my past relationship. Plus, does it REALLY count if it only last three months (yeah, that’s how dysfunctional it was!)?? Still, it’s something that occasionally crosses my mind…