My husband can tell great stories. Awesome jaw dropping stories. He’s the life of the party – being the Gemini that he is, he’ll charm the pants off of you (literally) and have you laughing for days. Me? Not so much. I’m pretty damn charming if I say so myself, in a weird once you get to know me I’m addicting kind of way, but I’m painfully shy and do best with one on one interactions. I am not the life of the party or a good story teller. Usually my stories end up coming out like, “you remember that one time, when we went to the club and that guy slipped his number in my back pocket and you almost kicked his ass… yeah – that was crazy”. The. End. His version is much more entertaining and he, of course, makes himself look like Batman coming in to save me from the Joker.
I’ve always thought in the back of my mind how hubby should write his autobiography. It would be so awesome. He used to write before we met when he was depressed and had severe post traumatic stress disorder...
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