#ValentinesDayChallenge Boogers & Burps Style
You have probably noticed on Facebook the #ValentinesDayChallenge that lots of couples are participating in. I will admit–I get sucked in to reading people’s cute love stories. However, I haven’t participated because I feel many of the questions don’t really relate to Mr. Boogers & Burps’ and my love story, so I decided to create my own. Here goes.
How long have you known each other? Since kindergarten, so [insert muffled sound here] years.
Married? Yes, 26 years this summer. And no, we didn’t do anything special for our Silver Anniversary because, well, Covid and poor.
Who broke the other’s heart first? That would definitely be him. It involved 6th grade and a “joke” his friends played on him that involved asking awkward Paula who brought her Cabbage Patch Kid to school still to “go with” Brian. And this girl thinking they were boyfriend and girlfriend for half a day until after recess when Brian came to my classroom to tell me it was just a joke. He claims he was just “being a gentleman” by telling me in person and not letting me go on thinking this cute boy actually liked 6th grade me with my Sears catalog knock-off polo shirt, buck teeth and yes, Cabbage Patch Kid. The jury is still out on whether he was being a gentleman or a jerk.
Where was your first date? Camping at a friend’s pond. He actually made the Ouija Board tell me he liked me. Nothing says romantic like a little occult magic.
Who has gotten hurt getting into the other’s car? That would be me, of course. In college, I managed to slam my head in between his car and the car door, right at my ears. I actually had to go to Student Health the next day because I thought I had broken my ears. (Apparently that is not a thing.) And no, if you’re wondering, this actually had nothing to do with alcohol. I was picking him up from his job at the library.
Speaking of jobs, who was dumb enough to do work study for the other? Again, me. Somehow he would talk me into doing his work study jobs when he didn’t want to, which was, let’s face it, most days. Whether it was making donuts early in the morning or working in the campus call center late at night, someone was dumb enough to say “Yes, I’d love to do that for you for no pay.”
Which one of you is the neat one? Neither. We are both pathetic slobs. Sometimes we pretend like we’re neat, but that lasts for about a day and then we fall back into old habits.
Where was your honeymoon? Minnesota and a little jaunt into Wisconsin. I know, you’re all jealous. We thought we were pretty uptown, though!
Better gift giver? Him definitely. He still hasn’t let me forget the time I got him a teddy bear.
First to say “I’m sorry”? Sarcastically — definitely me. Genuinely — also me, but much later.
Who yells the most cuss words while playing FIFA? Yeah, him.
Who finds it the most annoying that someone would yell cuss words while playing a video game? That would be me.
Best at losing things? Him, by a landslide. Wallet, keys, iPad, and now that he wears reading glasses, God help us.
Best at finding things? Me. (Hint: They are usually right in front of his face.)
Most competitive? Him, him, him. I couldn’t care less. I think he is regretting asking me be in a Sunday night bowling league with him. My average hasn’t gone up in five years. (And it’s barely over 100.) Plus, I tend to feel sorry for the underdog or the other competitors that don’t win, which drives my husband crazy at times.
Best at studying? Me.
Best at not studying and still getting a better grade than the other in the same class? Him. (Not that I’m bitter or anything)
Got to meet President Obama? Him.
Got to meet Joe Jonas and tell him it was her 40th birthday and he couldn’t have feigned less excitement at either meeting her or the fact that she was so old? Me.
Funniest in person: Him.
Funniest in print: Me. (It takes me longer to think of those one-liners.)
Best cook: The term “best” would imply that both of us actually cook. I just pretend. He is definitely the better cook, considering my repertoire consists of chili, spaghetti, or walking tacos. I loathe cooking, baking, or anything that has to do with the kitchen–except eating, obviously.
Best friend: I’d say this ends in a tie. There’s no one else I would rather go through this life with, and I am going to just hope that he would say the same.