I’ll never forget the day he told me he was adopted.
We were about to crawl into bed after a night out in the Old Port, both appropriately drunk (one of us more so), when Chris pulled out his phone and brought up a map of Florida. He pointed to a spot on his screen and said, “My birth parents live in the panhandle of Florida. I get to see them sometimes.”
We had only been dating a month, so I was so surprised to hear him sharing this big piece of himself. I didn’t ask questions, and he rolled over and drifted off to sleep.
I waited for him to revisit the topic when he was ready. It wasn’t for another two months, when I met his mother and father, that I learned his story of adoption was a total and complete lie.
He most definitely was not adopted, and had unknowingly (read: drunkenly) pulled his longest term joke on me EVER. When I started to question it, I asked him about it & he responded, “What are you talking about? Who told you I was adopted?” That’s when I explained the night out, the map, the panhandle of Florida... He lost it. He was pretty damn pleased with himself. And I laughed too because if there’s anything I appreciate, it’s a long term joke, even if I’m the butt of it.
I’m gonna marry him so hard. And if you’re coming to our wedding, you’ll probably hear this story again because it’s one of my favorites.