I've referred to him as the blue-eyed boy in these parts before. It's accurate in the technical sense but makes us sound like a cheesy poem or a lip-gloss laden story.
The true story is that we're almost stupidly practical. We grocery shop, we edit each others papers (okay... I edit his), we cook dinner, we wash each others socks. We fight enough, and then we talk it out.
And now we're getting married.
He proposed to me under a bridge at his childhood home in Calgary. The place he told himself, when he was ten years old, that he would like to ask a girl to marry him one day.
That's it. I'm still the exact same person, strangely enough. I just have someone I'll share life with... for as long as we both shall live. It still kinda blows my mind.
His name is Brendan. And I love him.
