I married him because I knew for absolute certain that he was the best guy in the whole world and if I didn't say yes I was just plain stupid. I married him because when he took me home for the first time to meet his family in the Most Overwhelming Weekend of my life, I met Sunimom who helped raise him and I could see in her enthusiasm that I was right - he was a good man.
He's young for where he is in his life, but that's nothing new. His mom somehow got him into kindergarten when he was like 4. It seemed like a good idea at the time, until he wanted to play football, and he was a full year younger and smaller than everyone trying to crush him.
Fortunately, he seems to lack the part of the nervous system that registers pain. He reported to college football weighing 134 pounds, and if I need to state the painfully obvious, that means that at 8 inches taller than me, he weighed less than I do now. (Someone should check with the NCAA, but he's got to be like the only Indian to play college football...)
He doesn't like dessert, reading fiction, or watching the Bachelor. He thinks the more the merrier when I think the more the awkwarder. He's boycotting baseball (something about Barry Bonds, and not what you'd think) and I'm boycotting football.
So, really, we have very little in common.
But, it turns out that at the immature age of 21, when I was wrong about so much, I was right about the really important stuff: He was - and is - a great man.
I would have been stupid not to say yes.
Today is his birthday, and I don't know about him, but for me, it's a happy one.