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If you know me, you know that I probably have a clinical addiction to Twitter. Many years ago as I was browsing the best website to have ever existed, I saw a tweet retweeted onto my timeline that caught my attention. The tweet was okay, but the tweeter was cute as shit. I went to her profile and immediately smashed the follow button. This was during a time of my life where, for some reason, I truly believed that I was the shit. This girl very quickly sent me right back to earth, because after about a week of me trying to like a couple tweets here and there I didn’t even earn the follow back. Yeah, my ego was hurt, so I unfollowed her.
About a year after that, I saw yet another tweet retweeted onto my timeline by the same girl so I followed her again. This time, I got the follow back. Over the next few weeks, this girl liked one of my tweets at least once a day. In my mind, things were getting pretty serious. Finally, one evening when the Sunday Scaries were rampant, I slid into her DMs. She slid back. I got her number. It was on.
After talking for a little while, we had planned our first date. This girl loved hiking, and even though I knew my fat ass was going to die, I agreed to go on a long, strenuous hike with her the next weekend I was in town. The Tuesday before that weekend, I received word from my superiors that I was going to be required to attend a mandatory coaches clinic that Sunday, the Sunday that we were supposed to hike. I immediately told the girl the bad news and offered alternative suggestions for a date in the immediate future. Somewhere, there was a major gap in our communication, and this girl eventually accused me of standing her up on our first date.
She did not talk to me for a couple weeks, and for the life of me, I could not figure out why. I finally reached out to my own mother to see if maybe she could help me figure out where I had gone wrong. She told me to reach out and apologize, something I’ve never done before in my life to anyone, and to try to make amends and make it up to this girl that I believed was so perfect for me. So later that evening I reached out to the girl and I apologized for something that I still truly did not believe that I had done, but I wanted to make things right (wanted to make her mine). She reluctantly accepted my apology and began casually talking to me again. I immediately got aggressive and I asked her for another date. For some crazy reason, she said yes. Fast forward to today, and we are married with a baby. I am very proud of myself for saving this one.
There is just one small problem in our grand love story. My wife has spent all these years telling everyone, her family, her friends, and even my family, that I ghosted her all those years ago on our first date. I have never once conceded to these ridiculous allegations that have been placed against me by my wife. I vehemently defend my case each and every time that she brings up the story. But do you know who gets believed? The poor girl that was stood up by the big mean guy. One day I realized that when I’m 75 years old and sitting on my back porch somewhere in the heart of Appalachia, that my wife would look over and remind me about the time that I stood her up on our first date. I cannot spend my entire life living under this slander.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands, and win this fight. I found my old laptop from college, I bought a charger so that I could actually turn it on, and I pulled up iTunes. I dug up my old iPhone 5 out of a box and plugged it in with the intentions of restoring an old backup from near when this whole fiasco went down. I found a backup within about a month or so of our encounter and I begin to immediately scroll up in our conversation thread hoping and praying that everything went down the way that I thought it did. I didn’t have to scroll very far since my wife didn’t talk to me for a few weeks, but I soon found exactly what I wanted:
“I will still be around this weekend but I have to go to this stupid coaches clinic on Sunday. I’m going to have to leave real early that morning. This really sucks. Can we please do something soon?”
Finally, I had achieved victory. All these miserable years had finally come to an end. I had gathered the last of my resources and brought out the secret weapons. I pulled the receipts. I knew this was only part of the battle, and that the next step was to get my wife to actually admit that I was right. A couple days later, as I was browsing my Twitter, I read maybe the most beautiful tweet that I have ever seen.
Ive literally been giving Garrett shit for years that he stood me up the first time we were supposed to hang out and he somehow dug up the messages where he did in fact tell me he couldn’t come.. whoops 😂🤷🏼♀️
— Kenzie (@kenziee_bug) October 16, 2018
Not only did my wife admit that I was right, but she told the entire world that I was right. This victory is one for the history books! I may never win another argument with my wife ever again, but I will always remember this day. My overall argument record with her is now be 4-217 but this victory feels sweeter than anything. You may think of me as the Cleveland Browns winning their first game after over a year-long losing streak, but I think of myself as a hardened warrior who has been on the front lines and seen the worst things imaginable, but he still returns home victorious.
I am a warrior. I am a hero. I am a legend. I. Am. Delph. .
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A man never “wins” an argument with his wife. He just delays the inevitable and humiliating defeat.
Show me a man who won an argument with his wife and I’ll show you a man who’s sleeping on his couch that night.
Sometimes I fight just to have a reason to sleep on the couch because my couch is HELLA comfy.
This was a joke.
His couch isn’t comfy.
I got a justice boner by proxy. Props to the lengths you went for glory.
Feel like early comments are not giving credit to how amazing this actually is. Recognition of being right even on the fancy twitter machine. ****slow clap****
My favorite “Aha, I’m right” moment is when I say something and then weeks later I turn out to be correct. Example: my wife wanted to take pictures with her brothers girlfriend (they had been dating a month) at the wedding (family photos, mind you). I told her it was a bad idea, because what if they break up. She said it would be fine, they’ll stay together, it’ll look great, and even if they break up it won’t be bad. Well, the girlfriend ended up hitting my wife’s brother the night of our wedding, the break up was made worse because they took one car from Pensacola to Jax (6 hours). She’s in 6 major photos of my wife’s family. Needless to say, I savored being right for a solid week and a half. Take the Ws where you can, man!
This happened to my friend. His sister’s boyfriend was in my friend’s wedding party and in a ton of wedding photos. About a year after, he broke up with my friend’s sister. RIP to his wedding photo album.
Oh shit thats WAY worse
Truly a great moment in sports history.
And that win will be recorded in the Library of Congress for all eternity.
Huzzah for you! Also… “…even though I knew my fat ass was going to die, I agreed to go on a long, strenuous hike with her..” This proves that the power of boners exceeds that of Death herself.
You had an iPhone 5 in college?? Wow I am old as hell
You will pay for this somehow in the future but until then live it up. Congrats!