Did I ever tell you about that one time?

I recently tweeted something awkward that happened to me and the Husband when we were dating, in hopes that Jimmy Fallon would read one of my tweets during his show for the #hashtag segment. So far no luck. But you know some stories are better told in more than 140 characters, so here's the whole story, rambling style.

Please allow me to take you eight years into my past.

The scene: In college, Pasta Roni for dinner at least three times a week, bigger booty, no back or neck problems, fun, spunky, determined, less facial hair, curlier curls, well-rested, no car, busy, a little needy, and clueless. This was me back then. I remember her well.

Of course with all this going for me, I finally found me a guy who didn't give off psycho vibes and wore nice cologne (aka the Future Husband). When I wasn't studying or sleeping I was with him. Duh.

Future Husband liked to take me on long walks in the park, mostly because he was trying to cover his cheapness with an air of romance. I didn't mind his stinginess with money. We were both poor and I didn't want him to forfeit his dinner of rice and beans just so he could take me to a movie that was dumber than dirt. So we went to the park a lot. Gosh, would you even believe that he proposed to me in that same park? I just now realized how thoughtfully romantic that was on his part . . . but I digress.

One day, near dusk, we were strolling in the park and we stopped at the playground to act childish. Those monkey bars were just beckoning us to come goof around on them, and by goof around I mean swing to and fro trying to tickle each other, like typical lovebirds are apt to do. 

Since I have basically zero arm strength, I decided I would have a better chance of getting a good armpit tickle on the Future Husband if I got off the bars and stood in front of him. So I dismounted and waited for the Future Husband to swing close enough for me to attack. All I was paying attention to were his armpits. That was my main focus. I was alarmed though to suddenly realize that the Future Husband was coming towards me FAST with his legs extended out in front of him. And I just stood there.

To this day I don't know what he or I thought was going to happen when a moving object (the boy) smacked directly into a stationary object (the girl). I guess we both sort of accepted our fate. Or we were both stubborn. That seems more likely.

But as I came to this realization, that my boyfriend had no intention of stopping and I had no intention of moving, he plowed right into my bosoms with his extended legs. I fell back on the ground, clutching my planetoids, my babies, my mammaries! And I cried out "Mylanta!" Okay maybe not. But I exclaimed something.

Being the gentleman (who kicks his lady) that he is, he didn't try to comfort my injured area, but he sure looked nervous. And sorrowful. And slightly entertained.

As he helped me up I thought about kicking him in his manhood. He probably would have let me too, seeing as how he deserved it and all. He's always been a firm believer in fairness.

But I decided on a more ladylike approach. I would milk this injury for all it was worth. Seriously though no pun intended. Please.

It helped my case even more when the next day I had to tell him that the ladies were bruised black and blue. He looked horrified.

But long story short, my bosoms got better and we got married a year later. Yeah us!

{This is not at the park. This is a mountainside, near the park, where the Future Husband had me in another predicament.}