Three years ago I married a badass Italian man in freezing cold Park City with my family and friends and Francesco’s awesome friends who flew in from all over the world (6 months later we married again in Italy).
Our best friends gave terrifying/sweet speeches, we danced (and my step mom learned to cut the cake), and celebrated our majestic union. Three years and nobody has been strangled. Totally killing this marriage thing. Thanks, Francesco, for smirking at my OCD, making fun of my terrible temper, and loving my friends and family like they were your own. You’re the best (like way better than that one bitches husband), and I’m so happy to fall asleep every night next to you, mildy tangled in your luxurious chest hair.
To forever! Or until one if us taps out (but if you tap our first I’ll hire a hitman…cause LOVE ME). Tanti baci…to the man who has made me a more empathetic, tolerant, open person. I love you. Aggressively.
