Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2015 22:46:32 +0000 (UTC)
From: Matt Smith <mattsmith435@yahoo.com>
Subject: How I Met My Husband

This story is intended for adults only.  If you are under 18, or 21
depending on the state, then you should not read this story.  I contains
adult situations near the end.

It is the true story of how I met the man of my dreams, and I hope y'all
drool with jealously as you read it :P

A bit of background information about me first.

       My name is Mike. I work in the local school system as a "related
service provider". What that means is that I provide a specific type of
service to a few students, but I don't actually teach the class. Typically,
my services are provided in the classroom, even while the teacher is up
teaching.

       I am a 6 foot tall, 30 year old man with dark hair, blue eyes and a
lean, though not terribly muscular body, with a hairy chest.  I have a
major underwear fetish, but only for the classics :D (i.e. boxers, briefs,
or boxerbriefs), and frankly, since it's a fetish, I feel I can be picky as
to what underwear looks good on what body type LOL. (I figured out it was a
fetish when I realized one day that there are times I get more turned on
seeing a man in his underwear than I do seeing him fully naked :D ) I am a
fairly confident man when it comes to my personality, but I've always felt
I should work out more to become more muscular.  Muscular guys turn me on,
and I want to look like that.  My problem has always been that I lack the
personal motivation to stay consistent at the gym.  So I'm fit, but I have
a little flab here and there.

       Oh, and most people don't know I'm gay.  I don't advertise it
(though not exactly in the closet), but living in the South (which is
coming around BTW) most people still don't find it their business to be
told about your sexuality. That and I don't behave very femininely.  I'm
not really into sports. Most of my TV watching is on the geeky side: Big
Bang Theory, Star Trek, Doctor Who, etc.

Okay, enough of the background.  To the story.

       One school year the student with whom I was working changed schools.
At the beginning of the year, before the students reported, I went to the
school to meet the teachers with whom I would be working and explain what
it is I do in the classroom.  I arrived at the school to find that I would
be working with only 2 teachers, which meant that I would be stuck with the
same group of students all day and that I would be with each teacher for
nearly half the day.

       I walked into the first room and was stunned.  There before me was
this...hunk.  He has dark red hair, a ruddy complexion, full mustache and
beard kept closely cropped, and short, well-kept hair.  He is about 6' 1"
and shows obvious signs of having been an athlete in school, but grading
papers has padded his muscles a little bit.  I found out a little later
that he was about 26 at the time (a year younger than me).  Given the class
was a history class, I was a little surprised to see someone like him
teaching it.  But as it turned out, he genuinely has a passion for history
and learning from it.  He wore well pressed khaki slacks, an untucked
short-sleeved plaid shirt, and a white undershirt. His forearms showed some
light, red hair, leaving me to speculate that he probably had a lightly to
mediumly hairy chest. I was enthralled. Oh, and after a second I noticed
something else...a perfectly shaped bubble-butt!

       I had to fight to get the moisture back in my mouth.  I stepped
forward, put out my hand, and introduced myself.  "Hi, I'm Mike
Davison. I'm here to work with a couple of the students in your class this
year."

       He took my hand with a firm, manly grip, and with a broad, genuine
smile, he looked me right in the eye with these piercing green eyes. "Chris
Boatman. Nice to meet you.  Yeah, they told me you would be coming.  What
is it exactly you will be doing?"  I went on to explain to him the services
I provide.  The whole time, I fought against my knees wanting to weaken as
he listened with all sincere interest.  He also explained that this year,
they were experimenting with single-gendered classes, and he had requested
the all-boys class.

       As a few weeks passed, I watched him teach his class.  Every day I
looked forward to going into his class, just because he was there.  His
passion for teaching was real.  I also learned, through his adorable
Georgian accent, that he was a bit of a mama's boy.  She taught him well,
too.  He was always polite, showed honest respect and interest in everyone.
The class, being all boys, would get really stupid sometimes, and sometimes
would make broad comments about girls, or about certain activities being
girly or "gay".  Every time he heard comments like that, he would get mad
and fuss at them for it.  It became clear that, despite being the Southern
definition of a "good ol' country boy" he hated any gender stereotyping.

       The more I got to know him, through working with him and through
chatting before and after class, I just kept thinking, "soft hearted, Paul
Bunyan."  That's what came to mind every day.  He looked like he should
have been out in the woods with his blue ox and an axe, felling trees with
one whack. He definitely enjoyed his sports. I'd hear him excitedly talk
sports with other men at the school.  But one day, in conversation, I
mentioned that I just happened to be one of few guys not that into sports.
He shrugged it off, and never brought up sports with me. Eventually,
though, I found out that he loves all things Lord of the Rings. Seriously?
Could this guy be more perfect? He has a geeky side too?  Then I found out
he laughed at The Big Bang Theory, and a couple other shows I liked. So we
were totally able to find topics of conversation we both enjoyed without me
being bored to tears on sports statistics.

       Every now and then, he and his team teacher would agree to take the
boys outside to get a little energy out.  Sometimes he was willing to throw
a football around with them. I loved the moments when he would jump high
and reach to catch it, and his lightly hairy belly would be exposed for a
second.

       One day, he leaned over to pick the ball up, and the most obvious
trunk briefs lines showed through his pants.  Talk about dick twitch.  This
was the first time I'd ever gotten any hint as to what kind of underwear he
wore.  Trunks!  I couldn't imagine anything more perfect for this guy!  Oh,
if there was ever any doubt of my crush on him before, it was ALL gone now.
That night I went straight home and jerked off like nobody's business at
the memory of those trunk lines.  I knew I had to make it my goal to see
this guy in just his underwear.  (Later on, I found out from the team
teacher that he always wears plaid shirts because he's slightly embarrassed
about the padded stomach he'd developed over the last couple of years. I
didn't care. That proved he wasn't arrogant and made me crush on him even
more).

       It dawned on me one day to see what the odds of getting him in a gym
lockerroom with me were.  The odds weren't exactly in my favor. We hadn't
talked about working out much; he was slightly embarrassed about his body;
and even on social media, there were no shirtless pics of this guy. So he
was obviously pretty modest.  But I had to try.

       One day while chatting, I brought it into the conversation that I
wished I could get myself to work out more often.  'Yeah," he said, "but
it's not always easy to find the time.  I wouldn't mind working out a bit
more too." He patted his tummy as he said it making an obvious indication
as to why he wanted to work out.

       I added, "Yeah, that and it's not easy to go to the gym alone.
There's something about having a workout buddy that gives you that little
extra motivation. Know what I mean?"

       "That's true." He said.

       I went for it.  "Maybe we could be each other's gym buddy some
time." He looked interested. I went on, "You could work on whatever you
feel you need to work on, and I could work on my stuff.  We wouldn't have
to be tied together. But if we agree on a time to meet, then keeping that
time might keep us motivated to go."

       He thought about it and nodded.  "That's not a bad idea.  Where do
you live?" I told him. "That's not too far from me.  We could carpool too."
This was better than I had expected.

       "Yeah, having someone actually show up to get you does make it a
little harder to resist," I said with a laugh, and he laughed with
me. "When can you start?" I asked.

       "Ummm, how about this Saturday?"

       "Sure," I said eagerly (I feared almost too eagerly, but I doubt he
knew why). "We can set up a schedule from there."

       "Sure," he said, and we parted to take up our spots in the room as
the students came in.

       Three days until we were to go to the gym.  The three longest days
of my life.  I didn't care about anything else but seeing him in that
locker room.  Literally.  Sometimes I thought about him stripping right in
front of me. Other times I feared he'd show up at my house to get me
already in his workout clothes.  It was hard for me to do my job during the
day.

       The day finally came.  He arrived at my house in his red
mustang. Even though this was totally plutonic, I loved that a guy had come
over to pick me up (I hadn't dated in a while).

       I walked out, got in the car, and...he was NOT in his gym clothes!
The excitement started to rise.

"Hey, man. How's it going?" I said.

       "Good morning." (I told you he was polite).  He backed out of the
drive way, and off we went. For a little ways, neither of us said much. He
already was a fairly quiet guy, and I'm a talker. So it was starting to get
a bit awkward for me (though probably not for him).

       "How was your Friday night?" I finally asked.

       "Pretty good, I guess." He said.

       "You guess? What did you do last night?"

       "I had to finish grading some papers.  Then I went over to my
parents for dinner.  That part was nice," he said.

       "Cool. You seem to like heading over to your parents.  A lot of guys
our age kind of avoid their parents.  Haven't been out of the house very
long, sorta thing," I ventured to say.

       He smiled. "My mom cooks amazing food. And my dad and I like to
watch football together."

       "Cool," was all I could think to say for a minute. "I don't live
anywhere near my parents. They're about 4 hours away. If I want to visit
them, it takes a couple days."

       We pulled into the parking lot.  The highly unlikely moment was
getting closer, and it was taking every fiber of my being to be totally
nonchalant.

       We walked in the building.  It turns out, both of us were already
members of the same place (I figured he might have to sign up or
something).  We showed our membership cards and headed to the lockerroom.

       We walked in. To look like I wasn't exactly following him, I stepped
ahead just quick enough to grab a locker before him.  He picked one right
next time mine.  I set my bag down and proceeded to untie my shoes.

       He, on the other hand, reached for the top button of his plaid
shirt.  I didn't know what I was doing by that point other than watching
each button come undone. Off slid the shirt.  I think I was still untying
my shoes at that point, but who the hell knows.  There he was in his white
undershirt and a pair of khaki shorts.  Then he reached down.

       Off slid one shoe.

       Off slid the other shoe.

       Off came the right sock.

       Off came the left sock.

       He unbuckled his belt.

       He unbuttoned his pants

       He unzipped his pants

       His arms crossed at the base of his undershirt, and he pulled it up
over his head.

       The only thing moving on me was my dick.  There was no stopping the
hard-on.  In fact, by the time that undershirt cleared his head, my cock
was rigid.  I couldn't believe it. It was going just as I had dreamed.

       Next, his thumbs tucked behind the waistband of his shorts, and down
they slid. I don't even know if they hit the floor. I didn't even know I
was staring.

       Here was the man of my dreams, FINALLY, standing next to me in just
a pair of white Calvin Klein trunk briefs.  His chest was lightly hairy
with that same dark red hair that crowned his head and lined his jaw. His
pecs already had a little shape to them. His nipples weren't too big or too
small. His stomach bulged a teeny bit, and honestly, I hoped it would never
flatten. This guy was a cub if ever there was one, and I was fascinated.

       "You gonna change clothes, man?" came the question that snapped me
out of it.

       "Uh, yeah. I was just getting my shoes off."  He laughed, and I
realized I had had them off most of the time he was undressing.  I real
quick pealed my shirt off.  "I think I have a little more work to do than
you," I ventured to say.

       He looked at me. I don't mean my eyes. I mean he looked at my
chest. "Eh, you're pretty fit.  I can show you some tips for your pecs
there, if you're interested, though," he said.  Seriously, what's not to
love about this guy?

       Oh, did I mention that ass?! His bubble ass in just trunk briefs.
Seriously, I was too afraid to take my pants off. There was no hiding the
boner once I stripped to my boxerbriefs. I decided to reach for my gym
shirt first and put it on.  Maybe those 2 seconds will reverse the blood
flow (right? Lol).  By this time, he had put his gym shirt on and was
sliding into his gym shorts.  As he sat down to put his shoes back on, I
figured while he was distracted was the perfect time for me to drop my
pants and put my gym shorts on.

       He finished just before me and said he'd meet me on the
treadmills. I agreed. I hadn't planned on using the treadmills, but when
the man you're enthralled with says you meet him on the treadmills, you
meet him on the treadmills.

       I tied my shoes and headed out.

       While on the treadmills, we chit chatted a little here and there.  I
sort of followed his lead on speed and whatnot, but I wasn't going to kill
myself either, so I did my own thing.  He got done and headed over to the
weights section.  Normally I avoid the weights area because I don't want to
get caught staring at the guys kissing their arms while I imagine their
mouth is mine (not that it happens often, but you catch my drift).  I
decided to head over to the leg machine and do my own thing for a while.
By this time, the image of him in his underwear was permanently seared in
my brain regardless of what I did, so as I did my leg workout, I enjoyed
the image fully hoping and looking forward to a repeat performance when we
were finished.

       We did our own thing for about 20 min or so, and then I decided to
take him up on his offer to help me with my chest.  I walked over to him.
"Hey, Chris. You said you had some tips for me for my chest?" He set down
the dumbbell in his right hand and leaned on his thighs. (His shorts were
baggy, but I had seen his awesome thighs. At that moment, anytime I saw
him, in my mind, he never had clothes on).  He wiped sweat from his
forehead with his shirt.

       "Yeah, give me a second to finish my set on the other arm and I'll
be right there." He said.

I stood and watched him curl 70 lbs with his left arm. (I think I can curl
20, maybe 25 LOL). There was no moisture in my mouth, and my sweat was not
entirely due to the energy I was spending working out.

He finished and stood up and walked over to me.  "Come here." He led me to
the weights.  "Grab a couple that aren"t too heavy but aren't too light."
I hated to do it in front of him, but I reached for the 15 pounders.  He
didn't flinch.  "Alright, come here."  He turned me around in front of
himself and took my arms in his hands.  "Just let them hang for a second."
I did.  I could smell his sweat (and wasn't complaining).  With his hands
under mine, he guided them upward and outward.  "Okay, now bring your hands
*almost* together in front of you, but don't let them touch."  I did.  "Now
do that for about 3 sets of 12."  He stayed behind me while I did the first
set, making sure I did it right.  While he wasn't pressed right up against
me, he might as well have been. I was in heaven. After the first set,
though, he said, "I think you've got it. I'm going to go over here," and he
left me to it.  I thanked him and finished my other 2 sets.

       I kept an eye on him most of the rest of the time, mostly to see
when he was ready to go back to the locker room, but we didn't really work
out much together the rest of the time.  A little after I was beginning to
tire, but wasn't about to show it, he came walking over to me.  He lifted
the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his sweat off his forehead. I love it
when straight guys do that!  He propped himself against the machine I was
using and sighed.  "Well, I guess I'm done," he said.

       "Alright, let me finish this up and I'll be done too."  I genuinely
figured he would head on to the locker room without me, but he didn't. He
stood and waited.  I got up.  Looked at him and nodded, and we headed back
to the locker room.

       I knew I had to be more discreet this time, but I wasn't sure how
easily I'd be able to carry it off.  I just knew that one of the first
things I had to change was my shorts before I had the chance to get hard
again. As soon as I opened my locker, my gym shorts dropped and my regular
shorts came up.

       Chris, on the other hand, followed the same undress routine as
before.  Off came the shoes. The gym shirt came off, and then down came the
gym shorts. I was trying not to stare.  Then he reached into his locker and
took out a towel. I thought he was going to the shower, but he just patted
his head dry (which I didn't mind. I could see him drying his forehead, but
there's no way to discreetly watch a guy in an individual shower stall
LOL).

       "See something you like?" I heard him say, and I nearly panicked.
I'm sure the color drained from my face.

       "What?!" I tried to feign surprise.

       He smiled. "I'm just joking. You keep looking my direction," he
said.

       "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize," I lied.

       He shrugged it off. "No problem. Just didn't know if you were trying
to figure out what this fat thing in front of you was," he said with a
chuckle.  I wasn't sure what to think. Was he fishing for compliments?
Okay, I'll take the bait.

       "You're not fat," I said.

       He smiled. "Well thank you," he said with a genuinely smile.  What
was going on?

       He reached in and took out another white undershirt and put it on
(so just undershirt and underwear. SCORE!)  Then he reached in and took out
his shorts. He had to take an extra second to turn them right side out, and
I didn't mind.  He brought them up, buckled his belt, and sat down to put
his shoes on.

       By this point, I had managed to get dressed much faster, so I was
putting my shoes on too.

       We headed back to his car and headed back to my place.  He pulled up
in my driveway, put the car in park and turned the engine off.  I wondered
what was up since I figured I'd just hop out, he'd pull off, and I'd go rub
out the best orgasm of my life.  Instead, he turned and looked at
me. "Seriously, though, you looked like you were staring at me," he blurted
out.  He didn't look mad. He didn't seem upset. I wasn't sure what was
going on.

       "Did I?" I said. "I didn't mean to."

       "You mean you meant to hide it better?" he said.

       Oh, I was white as a sheet at this point, I'm sure.  I stammered. I
didn't know what to say. I was caught red-handed and probably about to get
my ass handed to me while having to putting up with the most awkward school
year of my career.

       He smiled. "You look scared," he said.

       A lump started to form in my throat. There was no way I wanted to
cry in front of this guy. I've been doing my damnedest to act straight
around this guy, and now I'm fighting tears?  One leaked out. "I'm sorry,
man. I...I?"

       "It's okay," he said in the most shockingly reassuring tone.

       I was stunned.  I didn't know what to say. "What?" was all that came
out.

       "It's okay. He said. It doesn't bother me." He shrugged. "I'm
flattered, I guess.  I've never had another guy show interest in me
before."  I just stared at him in disbelief. "That and ever since I put on
a little, I haven't been very comfortable with my body," he said as he
rubbed his belly.

       I brought myself around.  "But you're not...you're not..."

       "Gay?"

       "Are you?"

       This seemed to be a tough question. "I've only been interested in
girls before.  But you've been pretty awesome to hang out with.  I've known
you liked me for a while. I figured the locker room would be the test."

       I blushed. "Ummmm...yeah, I walked right into that one."

       He smiled teasingly. "You were hoping for it, weren't you?"

       I nodded sheepishly.

       He put his arm up on the door and played with him beard as he
thought.  "The truth is," he said without looking at me, "I started
realizing you aren't exactly unattractive either."

       I blushed again.  "Ummm...thanks, I guess."

       "And I meant saying that you were pretty fit as a compliment," he
said.

       "Really?" I said (suddenly feeling like a 12 year old lol).

       He shrugged. "I don't know, man.  I'm not saying anything's going to
happen or anything."

       "No no no. Chris, I never expected even this conversation. We can
just stay gym buddies if you want. Seriously!"

       Again, he didn't look at me, "Well, I think for right now that's
best.  I just...I just don't know, man. I've never felt this way about a
dude before," he said.

       I didn't mean to ask, but it came out, "What way?"

       It was his turn to blush and he smiled sheepishly, all the while
avoiding eye contact. "This way," is all he would say.

       I sat in silence for a second.  "Do you want to come in for a
second? Use the bathroom maybe?" I was just trying to break the silence.

       "No, I better go.  I'll see you Monday at work. We can go to the gym
together after that."

       "Alright," I said, and stuck out my hand (who knows why). He reached
out and shook it, and I was off.

       I had planned to jack off that night (even though I knew I'd pop
quickly, it would have been glorious). But I couldn't.  I ended up in bed
fairly early thinking about what he was going through.  I felt bad for the
guy (but excited for me of course).  He was 26 years old, and for the first
time he was confused about his sexuality.  It couldn't be easy (I knew from
the day I hit puberty and realized muscles did more for me than tits).

       Time went on and we didn't really talk about it again.  We went to
the gym regularly while never really discussing the fact that he let me
enjoy looking at him.  The closest we got one time to acknowledging that I
looked at him was when I quit caring about hiding my boner in front of him
and he noticed. He just looked at me with a wry grin and winked.

       Then, one day, we were in the gym.  He stepped away to go to the
toilet, and another hot guy came in.  Before I realized it, I was staring
at him while he slid his pants down to reveal some pretty nice looking
white Hanes briefs.  The next thing I knew, I hear this angry voice, "What
are you looking at, fag!?" I looked up to see I was caught, and this guy
was not happy.  He turned and started toward me, his fist was rearing back,
ready to connect with my face.  I was terrified.

       The next thing I knew, Chris had him from behind and pulled him
back. He got in between us and looked at the guy. "What the hell is your
problem, man?" he asked.

       "This faggot here was staring at me!" he said angrily.

       "So what?!" Chris said. "Did he touch you?"

       "Fuck no! I'd never let him get within 10 inches of me."

       Chris got in his face. "Listen, man. This guy is a friend of
mine. If you don't calm down and show him a little more respect, and stop
calling him a fag, we'll take care of this RIGHT now." Chris was MAD! I was
stunned.

       The guy backed down a bit.  "Friend of yours, huh?" He said
sarcastically, "You suck each others' dicks do you?" Chris's fist popped
the guy in the mouth faster than I could blink.

       "What did I tell you?!" he yelled.

       The guy got up. He was stunned.  I just knew we were all about to
get arrested.  He wiped his mouth with his arm to check for blood, but
there wasn't any.  I was surprised the manager hadn't come in yet, or
something, but no one else was in the locker room at the time, and
apparently the sound proofing was pretty good.

       The guy stared Chris down but headed back to his locker and decided
to ignore us.

       I stared at Chris.  We got dressed (street clothes) in silence and
headed to the car.

       It had been my turn to drive, so I drove him over to his house.  I
parked, and he got out before I could shut the engine off, but I couldn't
stop myself.  I got out, grabbed him, and threw my arms around him (though
I tried for a "manly" hug lol).  His arms came up around me.  "I was so
scared!" I said.

       "I know," he said. "So was I."

       We just stood and held each other for a second.  I back up and
looked at him.  "I'm sorry, man, but I love you!" I said.

       He put my head back on his shoulder with a smile and whispered, "I
love you, too!"

       We didn't kiss that night.  In fact, for many, the dating the
process went pretty slow.  He was still working through accepting himself
as being into a guy.  I didn't want to rush him. I just enjoyed every
minute I got with him.  It took several dates, in fact, spread out over
several weeks, before I leaned in for a peck on the mouth, and he let me.
I asked him if he wanted to stay the night.

       He got this slightly panicked look and I said with a grin, "I have
more than one bed." The panic disappeared.  "One rule though," I said.

       "What?" he asked, again a little nervous.

       "Underwear only in the house?" I asked.

       He smiled this big smile. "Sure!"

       That night we ended up sharing a bed after all, but just to spoon.
I didn't care. My dick was hard, and the next morning, my underwear was wet
with jizz. So obviously, I had a nice dream :D

       After that, he stayed over several times a week. I even stayed at
his place a few times.  Oddly enough, we had our first fight before we ever
had any sexual contact (beyond cuddling). I mean we were pissed at each
other! But neither of us left the house. We slept in separate beds that
night, and we apologized to each other in the morning, but we both could
have easily walked out.

       One day, I went over to pick him up to go to the gym, but he was
sick.  I stayed and took care of him.

       Then, one night, we were at his place. He came over to me in his
trunk briefs, stood in front of me, and slid them down. I swallowed hard as
his semi-hard dick stood in front of me.  I looked up at him. "Are you
sure?" I asked.

       "No butt stuff, just suck it," he said.  I smiled, reached out and
wrapped my hand around him and slipped it in my mouth.  I was so hard. I
sucked on that glorious cock. I enjoyed it so much, my eyes were clamped
shut. I barely noticed when his hand came around behind my head to guide
me. I could hear him moan. I had already cum in my underwear but wasn't
about to stop.

       He moaned some more. After what seemed like the longest (in an
awesome way) time, I heard, "Here it comes," and before the words were
done, his load shot down my throat. He moaned so loud it was almost a
scream. I kept sucking for a second until he begged me to stop. I pulled
back and wiped my mouth. (Looking at the clock, it had only been about 5
min or so since I had started LOL)

       He fell on the couch. He was red all over his body (it was
adorable). "Was that good for you?" I asked.

       He laughed and put his arm around me and pulled me over to lay on
his chest.  "Yes." He said.

 	It was another couple of weeks before I felt him pull me onto my
back in bed one night, and in the dark he started pulling my underwear off.
Gently taking my cock into his hand, he leaned in and started sucking on
it.  He needed a little practice, but I was so thrilled that he was finally
comfortable enough to suck me off, that it was the best head I had ever
gotten in my life. Not knowing how he would feel about swallowing another
guy's load, I gave him more warning than he'd given me a couple weeks ago,
and he did pull off. In fact, he stopped. I guess he thought I was about to
blow.  I grabbed his hand real quick and put it back on my dick. He started
jacking me off, and within just a couple seconds, I blew my load on my and
his chest.

       In silence, he crawled back behind me in bed, wrapped his arms
around me, and whispered in my ear, "How was I?" he asked.

       I smiled. "Pretty good," I said. And we fell asleep.

       The next morning was like shear bliss for both of us.  We just
enjoyed the moment over breakfast, but as we were getting dressed for
work. I decided to reassure him.  "By the way," I said. "If you're still
worried, I'm not really into butt stuff either." (which honestly I'm not.)

       He looked relieved, which was funny because he didn't look tense to
start with. "Oh," he said. "Yeah, I was still trying to work myself up to
that one."

       I smiled. "No worries.  If we never do, that'll be perfectly fine
with me. Handjobs and blowjobs are awesome enough for me."  He smiled.

       "Okay then."

       We've been living together, now, for a year.  Yes he watches sports
on TV sometimes, but even though I don't like them, I love him. So I don't
mind.  He has his friends over to watch games every now and then. For a
party, I'll get into the game too.  On the other hand, we've fallen asleep
holding each other before while watching Star Trek on Netflix. LOL.  We've
had our fights (usually over stupid stuff, but that's how committed
relationships work), and I couldn't love this man any less than I do now,
and I know I will only love him more over time.

My hero, Chris Boatman.

If you like this story of how my "husband" (gay marriage is still about
hinky in GA) and I met, e-mail me at mattsmith435@yahoo.com and let me know
(BTW, Matt Smith is my favorite Doctor, hence the e-mail address ;)

-Mike