About a year ago, I decided it was time to finally set up a Facebook account because everyone said I wasn't cool unless I had a Facebook page. I don't know why I wasn't cool just for having my MySpace page or even my own website, but apparently some people can only find me on Facebook. Whatever. I set up my account on a whim one night and needed to put up a profile picture. I don't have any good normal pictures of myself, so I chose the ping pong picture for my profile. Now I frequently get comments about how awesome my ping pong form looks. What they don't know is that I am about to slam that ball in a girl's face. I guess it is better that people can't see that other side of the table.

Two nights ago, I was helping my wife (Jill) set up her own Facebook page. We created it about a month ago, but she wanted me to show her how to update stuff like pictures and personal information. (On a side note - any 8 year old kid could figure out all of that stuff on their own - but I wasn't about to tell Jill that.) We put up a few pictures of our family and added some other stuff to her page. We came to a section of the personal information that asked her marital status. She clicked "married". It then opened up a little window to link to her spouse. She typed in my name. When we clicked the "update" button at the bottom of the page, it took us directly to another page that said something like ..

"You have chosen to be married to Andy Gullahorn. Is this really what you want to do?"

I know this page is just there to make sure that people don't enter any wrong information before they broadcast it all over Facebook - but a certain feeling of fear shot through me. Right next to the question was that goofy picture of me about to slam a ping pong ball in a pregnant girl's face. It was as if it was saying, "Are you sure you want to be married to this guy? The guy playing ping pong right here in this picture? Are you kidding?"
I looked at Jill and do you know what I saw?

Hesitation.

I can hardly blame her. Most girls dream of marrying some strong, handsome, successful man who will take care of their every need. I could see her mind running through all of my attributes - considering if it really was a wise choice to marry me at this point. I have a stupid ping pong picture on my profile. I love playing fantasy football. I want to re-join the Professional Disc Golf Association. I have an electronic Whoopie Cushion with a remote control - that I use frequently - and still think is funny. I have a 4' x 4' picture of Kathy Lee Gifford's face in my garage that I refuse to get rid of. I don't have the will power to ever turn down sausage or bacon. I have never had a real job. I am not very good at prayer. I snore sometimes. I am sarcastic 70% of the time. The only suit I own has a hole in the shoulder. I stop to pick up hats on the side of the interstate. I am not "in shape". I don't "read books". And the list goes on.

See, ten years ago it wasn't that hard of a decision. We were fresh out of college. She didn't know better - or if she did, I am sure she thought that I would at least mature over time. Turns out I am still the same immature weirdo that I was on August 8, 1998. The only difference is that she didn't know just how weird I was back then. Now she has seen me in my full weirdness. She has seen me make stupid jokes that nobody laughs at. She has seen me say completely inappropriate things to people I hardly know. She has seen just how much time I actually spend getting ready for those Fantasy drafts. Now she is able to make an informed decision - and the odds are not in my favor. I mean, I have known all along that she was out of my league. I was fully aware of that on our first date in 1995 and have been every day since then. And now she has her chance to set the record straight.

The hesitation seemed to last hours but it was probably only 10 seconds or so. It felt as if the mouse pointer was hovering over the "Cancel" button that whole time. I looked at Jill and felt completely helpless. Any attempt to influence her decision might send her over the edge. Then finally - she clicked it.

"Accept"

She smiled at me.

With a sigh of relief I just said, "Thanks."