celebrations are planned that will last at least a month, like the patron, fireworks and crunchy hazelnuts, including many gave up for dead because our union again before it began. The reason is quite simple: we are different. He is intelligent and I all, I'm physically acceptable and he more than me, and I studied him not, I'm blonde and he, too, he's nice and I will not. Among other things he claims Monicelli's theory, namely that living with a woman stoned intellectual and physical capacities of a man, and I support the theory of spinsters (loosely referred to as "single", how I hate the politically correct ... ) who live alone is the greatest thing in the world.
So, with these positive conditions, it was pretty clear that nobody would have bet a butt spit on our wedding. Instead it seems that I go, miracle. Yet I do not think I have no candle lit at San Gennaro .. boh, maybe I did it unconsciously, the Catholic side of me is sometimes stronger than me.
Last year at the turn of the wedding I was a little agitatella ... and to ease the tension that sliced \u200b\u200bwith a knife, I wrote a lot. I described our first meeting. It was disgusting, but apparently liked it so much to her husband, who has translated and I did read some parts of the wedding day.
Since then, the guide has become something that resembles an urban legend. It 's been word of mouth, modified, enhanced, distorted ... I have heard rumors that claim that the day I met him he was dressed Sexsax Caballero.
am happy to note that this blog is read, and is read from (relatively) many people judging by the statistics. Of course I am sure all be relatives and friends, I am afraid that no one else care about my life. And as the embroidery on the story I have come from people who do not chew much English (Anglophones are evidently not very good at embroidery), I could rewrite improvements which are still in Italian. Instead I decided to skip directly to days of marriage without first forget to mention that, at that time famous:
"I hated all those stupid pieces of shit and ephemeral finance eternal and fathers who felt that they treated people as if they were subjected. I hated the perfect women in Armani suits and Gucci bags, with the finishing touches on her face and boobs, seemed lifeless mannequins. I hated men of all ages: the old greedy asses watching the little girls (mine included) but then when you talked about not watching you in the face, I hated the young rampant burned (with master) at least 4 times, with their clothes linen and the perfect tan, I hated the stench of perfume that is dragged behind, the Panerai watches. Surrounded by everything I should not do is my job, until early September. "
this:
"On July 3, arriving at work late. Under a hot melts the stones, ran in the lobby of the Resort, sweaty march. The maitre asks me "but do not have air conditioning in the car?" looking at me as watching a dog poop, I would say that maybe if I pay her brand new Mercedes, I could arrive fresh as a daisy wet dew, but since I have a panda in 1986, with the windows crank, brakes that are not so well, the radio jams, upholstery background (and I think that I forgot in the trunk well as bags of rubbish) and the right arrow that part only if it imposes a karate chop, it seems to me obvious that after 40 km of sunny road to get to this place fucking, the least I can have both the halo in the armpit. "
but above all this:
" I found a person far from my expectations, because he went beyond any type of thought or imagination that I had made on him. His manner is absolutely perfect, almost of another era, mixed with the exuberance and friendliness, surprised me several times. I got to the point of not knowing and not even the slightest guess what might happen in the hours that followed, strange given that all are men with whom I was facing, had eventually made the gesture that I had expected. Not him, nothing he said or did during and after the long walk was the least predictable. I discovered that he had plans, that he had preconceived ideas or premeditation. We spent all night talking, sitting on the wall of the Ponte Vecchio, with beer in hand. I loved the fact that despite appearances, he was early as I do, that he was allergic to any type of conformism or respectability, just like me. Who shared with me a lot ideas, even those policies. We've been around the city until three in the morning, and when I was taken back to the car I did not have even a minute of hesitation in asking him if he wanted to have coffee with me. "
and this:
We got married December 26, 2009 in St. Albans, near London. We left for London on December 23.
On Christmas Eve we spent thinking. While family and friends of the herd passed by a dinner at a burp, and I Sexsax we were alone, thinking.
The intimacy that we found in that famous December 24, was unusual, since my mother-in-law's house and in the hotel we invaded me, my family of origin and the multitude of friends, seemed to be Wembley during a derby.
We decided to focus on our desires, the actual meaning of what we have done a little later. And in the end, we realized that it makes no sense. Marriage is an impulsive act dictated by the ass, or the empty pockets in the case of the two was a billionaire. And the heart? The hearts have always had. We will be married just because we wanted it ... and because we wanted? Boh. Maybe because we love each other, but it sounds anachronistic to say, not very modern marry for love. We are old inside. I am old, very much. I'd been born in 1930 to see how some things and how to act, despite the appearance of other monsters.
We spent the night of 24 promises to us, some I can also write: we promised that we will be left in bankruptcy the report, which we would have allowed the other to live a life separated from the wife and our baby (we had even just one) would never be used for any mutual reproaches, or even worse, blackmail.
What is the value of a promise? Our value is very high. Homo erectus and I are first of all, sincere. Because of this sincerity we broke down many times before, but I think the ultimate expression of respect is the absolute frankness. Seen in this light, the promise proves to be a blood pact, something sacred and inviolable. I know that in this age of indifference, alienation and how the hell do we want to, if there is no one moves behind a written contract (at least), but the seriousness and the depth of the relationship, are also measured through the ability to keep its promises.
Until now, we never broke our agreements. And that's why we cross the finish line this year difficult, but enormously full of everything possible.
Sexsax unlike mine, is precise, methodical, studious. It 'an eternal nerd. For him, the word has a value other than maybe I can give, and manages to get things studiandosele.
un'arraffona But I am, I think not. Do not ever ask me what I should do to get what I want, act and nothing else. This often leads to real disaster in our midst, because he does not understand the way I do and I do not understand her.
I'm a lightweight and ordinary, I insist to go out, do shit, go dancing. He would always tend to study and then Sbrocca midweek. But his Sbrocchi are powerful, much better than mine.
That Christmas Eve, I would have come around to messing with friends, while he insisted on the "reflection". And after one year and one more child, I understand how important it was, and how important the insulation that sometimes he and I concede.
The possibility of being together in silence, This is important, I think. It was, and it will be after Christmas when we will come back for a week in Iceland. Alone, far from everything, in the middle of nowhere. Only if you survive a day like this, you really understand if the relationship is worth continuing to exist. We will not be a trial, but a confirmation. During this turbulent year, we found lot of confirmations. We do not always look, often came from the sun, even when I am in Stavanger, I got my suitcase and I vowed not to want more as a husband (you can see from this count as my enlightened "outputs").
Upside always before me, he sits and thinks. I can not stand this and he knows it, in fact doing it on purpose.
This time while I rant, he was sitting in the living room of our prefab Norwegian, and thought. He thought the insults that had overthrown him for having dragged around the world. It was not made to scream as is the normal things, did not send me nicely to that country, but simply thought about how to minimize travel. Instead I wanted a discussion comes on, the more he pondered and pondered, the more I scream.
This is a classic example of what clashes between us. Yet it is through this difference of character that even after seven years, govern the cabin of our relationship. And 'thanks to its methodical studies, which our history has hit it an easy road to travel.
I do not know if one day we leave, it may happen, nothing is ruled out in life. But if it happens, the years we spent together will remain engraved in our DNA and it will be impossible to remove. I am part of its chromosomes, as he is part of the mine.
I can not fuck these days, I realize that it is not very nice and heavy to be writing these things. But I'm in love with him and my children, so much that I lost my head and also part of my character.
So I decide not to describe and do not joke about the day of my marriage. Not because it is taboo to do so, indeed, but why not do it.
I feel just apologize to homo erectus to have tortured over the years, apologizes for having made him bear the unbearable, often an excuse to be out of my head, sorry for being incoherent and uncompromising, sorry for movies dubbed in Italian, sorry for my mess, sorry to have neglected, ignored, undervalued. I ask your pardon for the home scenes style Cupiello for cold feet, for the food thawed, for not being able to sew buttons. Sorry for not having waited for dinner, not too busy calling him why, to have forgotten the iron turned on his shirt. I apologize if it's because I'm here, with two children and a marriage, it is thanks to him. And I can not ever admit it.
Love You
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