How do we start this? Weet-Bix?

Weet-Bix

All good marriages begin with Weet-Bix

Matt: So shouldn’t this joint blog thing start at the beginning, rather than the fight we had in Pompeii on our honeymoon? Actually, I will rephrase that for the record, we didn’t have a fight in Pompeii on our honeymoon, you chucked a tantrum because you thought you weren’t going to get lunch and I was trying to find the ancient Roman amphitheatre and you wanted to see more dead plaster bodies and there weren’t any, anywhere. Except for that one. Which was pretty lame.

Rebecca: And, you were being a dick.

Matt: I wasn’t being a dick.

Rebecca: You were being a dick. Anyway, what do you mean by starting this blog ‘at the beginning’. Do you mean when we met for the first time when you saw my arse, like you mentioned in your wedding speech? I can’t believe you did that by the way. Why didn’t you talk about how much you loved me instead of my fat arse?

Matt: I talked about your arse for two seconds. And I said it wasn’t fat. I said in my wedding speech I was very pleasantly surprised that your arse wasn’t fat because we met ‘on the internet’ after you started following me on Twitter and all I could see from your Facebook photos was your face, and that you were so pretty I knew that you had to probably have a fat arse. And then when I met you outside your house on our first date your arse wasn’t fat at all. It was hot.

Rebecca: I’m sure you could have said something a little more meaningful than comment on the size of my arse.

Matt: It was a great speech. I’ve had numerous people come up to me independently and say it was the best speech they’ve ever heard. Very heartfelt. Very real.

Rebecca: I don’t believe we invited any deaf people to our wedding.

Matt: David and David said it was heartfelt.

Rebecca: Your brother?

Matt: No, David groomsman and David from work. Anyway. I think this blog thing should start at the beginning of our married life.

Rebecca: At the ceremony? That’s very sweet.

Matt: No, I don’t really remember the ceremony, it was too hot. I meant the wedding night.

Rebecca: The wedding night? No!

Matt: No, that’s the perfect place to start.

Rebecca: That’s too personal.

Matt: It’s not personal at all.

Rebecca: How is it not personal at all?

Matt: Because you came to bed, and then you got out of bed about five minutes later because you hadn’t eaten anything except lettuce and wholemeal pita bread for three months so you could fit into your dress and you wanted Weet-Bix…

Rebecca: You know that’s not true, as I hate vegetables, so I wasn’t eating lettuce. I was eating a lot of cheese though, and coke zero. You would remember this because you delicately told me that my breath stunk because of it…

Matt: And then you came back to bed and ate a bowl of Weet-Bix, in bed, on our wedding night. I would like the record to show that we consummated our marriage and subsequent life together with me having a diminishingly hopeful look on my face, and you eating a bowl of Weet-Bix. In bed. On our wedding night. Weet-Bix.

Rebecca: I ate Weet-Bix on our wedding night, AFTER what people do on their wedding night. Stop trying to get the sympathy vote by telling people all you got on our wedding night was disappointment. Especially given I had my Weet-Bix 12 minutes after being in bed with you.

Matt: OK, let’s not talk about our wedding night; let’s talk about your tantrum in Pompeii …

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