I don’t have a long dating history from before I met my husband. It’s not that I didn’t date, but I was one of those girls who went for relationships of the long-term variety. For the most part.
I spent over two years dating someone during my senior high years who was three years older than me. “Dating” seems like such a trivial word, considering that I had a promise ring. Do you remember those? Seventeen-year-old me wore it with pride. It now rattles around in the bottom of my jewelry box.
The next serious relationship I had was with a guy who was five years older than me. Five years older than me. I come from a small town and, well, it seemed that the older guys were always the ones who my friends and I dated. They were so “mature.” I put that in quotes because in hindsight it is nothing but hilarious.



The Washington Street Journal had an article this week titled, “

I ran across an article over at Yahoo! Shine titled, “
I stumbled across an article over at The Frisky titled: 

While perusing the interwebs for marriage and relationship articles I came across an article by Wendy over at The Frisky titled, “
I came across a Cosmopolitan article via msn.com that was titled, “