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I was (am?) a punk rocker. With all of my pierced, tattooed, house-squatting, vegan, nicknamed friends. That lead to a slew of things that my parents wanted to end me for. Use your imagination.
Buuut, the one in recent memory was that I lied (by omission) about my boyfriend's age. So I meet hubs through aformentioned slightly unsavory (to my parents) friends. Parents are excited because, hey, Phoenix isn't a lesbian (note: my parents aren't homophobic, they just assumed because I was (am) a massive tomboy and had "male friends" but no boyfriend by the age of 16, plus numerous gay and lesbian friends, that there was a high possibility of me being a lesbian myself) and she finally has a boyfriend. Great. We go out on two dates. Aaaaaaannndd then my mom asks how old he is.
Welp, P was 21 at the time. Me? 16.
Yes, in the abstract, I know this is kind of messed up. Yes, I would be upset too if my daughter was dating a 21 year old. But I've been an old soul for a long ass time, and P was always respectful of my parents rules and regs...after my ass was grounded for a long time, and we had supervised dates.
Yeah, we were married three years ago, and we're celebrating 10 years together! And my parents love him to bits.
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Buy the ticket, take the ride!
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