Once upon a time....

It was January 2013, and my sweet friend Tammy and I decided to kick off the year with a Luke Bryan concert. I was single—like single single—crisp dollar bill kind of single. At the time, my on-again, off-again boyfriend was in prison (yeah... it was one of those stories), and we were definitely “off.” We still talked now and then, though. That whole situation had been dragging out for about three years—on when he was clean, off when he wasn’t. A rollercoaster I was finally starting to step off of.

Truth be told, I wasn’t looking for anyone. I had my kids, a job I actually liked, good friends, and—for the first time in a long time—I was genuinely happy. Life was full, and I was content.

After the concert, we headed across the street to Main Gate—a little dive bar with big energy and zero class. The kind of place where your shoes stick to the floor, the drinks are cheap, and the stories practically write themselves. While we were there, this guy came over and started chatting with Tammy. He was kind of cute, in good shape, easy on the eyes. But I wasn’t paying too much attention. I left early because I had to work in the morning.

A few days later, I ran into Tammy at the gym—she worked there, and I liked pretending I was athletic. That same guy was leaving, and I asked, “Hey… was that the guy from the bar?” She nodded, said he came in a lot. Still, I didn’t think much of it. I wasn’t interested—and I was pretty sure he was married.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and Tammy and I were out again—this time for our friend Laura’s divorce party (because if you’re gonna celebrate freedom, do it right). That guy showed up again. Tammy leaned in and said, “I think he likes you.”I raised an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, no thanks. He’s married. I don’t do that.”She replied, “He’s not.”Still… I wasn’t sold. We hung out a little, nothing major. He disappeared, I left, and that was that.

The next day, I messaged him on Facebook to make sure he got home okay—he’d been a little tipsy. That kicked off some casual conversation, which turned into more messaging, and eventually… he asked me out. I was hesitant. I didn’t want to date anyone. But something about him made me say yes.

A week before Valentine’s Day, we went on our first date. He took me to see Gangster Squad (spoiler: not my pick), and then to play darts—with his ex-brother-in-law, no less. I remember thinking, Who even does that? Gross. But somehow… he grew on me. And I kept seeing him.

And that? That was the beginning of something I didn’t see coming.

A few months in, and yep—I was still dating that guy. Things had gotten official… like Facebook official, so you know it was serious. We were exclusive, settled into a rhythm, and he’d hang out when we didn’t have the kiddos, or sneak over once they were tucked in to binge movies and steal a little quiet time together.

One night, the kids were asleep (or so we thought), and we were enjoying some… grown-up bonding time. It was probably close to midnight. We were in my room, clearly not paying attention to the door, when out of nowhere we hear the shrillest little voice shout:

“GET OFF MY MOM!!”

Yep. We froze, turned, and there they were—both of my kids, standing at the doorway, looking traumatized and absolutely ready to call in backup. Needless to say, the moment was destroyed, and I’m 99% sure we owe them therapy. Like... forever. 🙃

Despite that unforgettable parental walk-in (every couple’s rite of passage, right?), things kept moving forward. By October 2013, he had officially moved in and we were navigating the wild, wonderful chaos of blending our families.

Then came January 11, 2014.

We were just hanging out—me on the couch with the kids, him in the bathroom doing... well, bathroom things. A few minutes later, he walks out, sits down next to me, looks over, and just says:

“Wanna get married?”

No ring. No dramatic setup. No bended knee. Just a toilet epiphany and a casual proposal in the living room.

And you know what? I said yes.

We got married shortly after. And in 2018, he made it official in the most beautiful way—he adopted Aidren. Our not-so-little blended bunch was now truly ours. And no, Aidren's bio dad is not in his life, but this man stepped up and chose to love him as his own.

Life wasn’t perfect—but it was ours. Messy, funny, chaotic, blended… and full of heart.

Here we are, 11 years later—and yep, we’re still together. Still married. Still standing. Still figuring it all out as we go. Our marriage? Oh, it’s had its fair share of twists and turns. Highs that made my heart burst, and lows that made me question everything (and trust me, we’ll get into all that later).

There were times I didn’t think we’d make it. Times we were hanging on by a thread. But somehow, we always found our way back to each other. We kept showing up, kept choosing each other, even when it wasn’t easy. And now?

We’re still here—moving, grooving, and doing this perfectly imperfect life side by side.

It’s not always pretty, but it’s real. And that’s what makes it ours.