"My husband whispered he had additional presents for me. I opened the box and found a life-sized, squishy-but-hard, textured but-smooth ... silicone thing."
There are supportive significant others, and then there are these people.
"I took off my bra and a skittle fell out, but I don’t remember the last time I ate skittles?"
And don't even start with the heart-shaped earrings.
I don't doubt he loves me; he tells me a dozen times a day. I guess I'll spend forever knowing I may not be the first or the most ferocious, but I'm the one who got him to say, "I do."
High school can evoke bad memories, of cliques and hormone-infused drama, of memorizing World War I dates, of diagramming sentences and conjugating Latin verbs and struggling through Calculus. Of being plagued by self-doubt and wanting desperately to fit in.