Do you know how I knew Ryan was Asher's dad?
He drove up the day after our first date, I know, I know keep up with me here, my intuition is fire ok? He abandoned his normal Sunday plans with his mom to laundry at his parents' house (uh for her to do his laundry ) when I asked if he wanted to have...omg what do normal men eat? Pizza and pop?
So I ordered a MEAT LOVERS pizza because is that what men eat? And a gluten free pizza. And somehow found a documentary to watch about sugar.
I put on this Lions shirt that I'd gotten when I was a bartender only because it was so much more flattering than my button up shirt, because maybe he'd think I was super casual. It was Sunday after all and I know football is a thing on Sundays. I chose not to wear make up to just get that out of the way right now, because yes I did last night but I don't really that was a trick. but then I actually did put on a little mascara because let's not just let ourselves go 22 hours after the first date.
He didn't touch the pizza because he was too nervous but I sent it home with him and the pop. He claims he ate it the next day for lunch.
So anyways, I was known for making up some pretty killer raps & jingles for Asher. He got bajiggity around his usual time, and I started singing one of the original nonsensical numbers I am armed with...and Ryan danced. To my song. To my crying baby. And smiled, while he watched us. I didn't know how ridiculous he'd think I was for singing about a tuba attitude and a booty biscuit dude but he danced.
I snapped this picture after he left of the...whatever it was that beamed out of me and I can't ever bring myself to delete it to make room for other things. Because to me, we have somebody who dances to the music of who we are. And I guess, there really are no other things.