Twenty-two years ago today, I ALMOST made the best decision of my life.
I had lost my mind and decided to marry a jerk, a tyrant, an @$$hole, all wrapped up in one. Please just shoot me now rather than make me remember this.
Nothing big, just a civil ceremony.
He had one job. ONE. That was to find someone to marry us.
At around 2:00 in the afternoon of the 4th, he started calling random preachers he had heard of in passing. Along with a redneck dude who called himself the "Mayor of Struggleville" and had been a justice of the peace, but could no longer perform marriage ceremonies.
I told him to get his %*!$ out of my car, my house, and my life.
But our "friends" were at our local hangout, and they were expecting us to get married that day.
So I relented, and we even pretended that we HAD gotten married that day. We went to the courthouse on Monday instead. It was two weeks later when I finally told my mother.
God, will I forever wish I had stuck to my guns on that Fourth of July.
May all your Fourth of July memories be happy ones. Mine have been, ever since 1997.
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