Why I Married Trevor (Don't worry...you won't throw up)

For years, I told my girls I would marry a "mountain man crossed with a financial planner".

My friends were less than enthusiastic.

After all, we were in the capital of all things metrosexual, daddy paying for life, skinny jeans, and "sweet bros".

KILL ME.

Anyway. On our first date, Trevor picked me up in his Chevy Silverado Turbo Diesel (Or Whatever they're called. You know, the ones.). POINT.

It was NOT jacked up. POINT.

It actually had a ball on it for attaching actual trailors and hauling actual things. (Not just big to compensate for other less than sizeable parts). POINT.

He had a Reba McIntire CD case lying on the floor. POINT.

He had a gun under the seat (not on a gun rack. hello, "I'm trying to prove I'm manly and cool.") POINT.

Trevor struggled in other areas. For example, he does not believe our children ever need to be "cultured". Our first real fight (in the Provo Temple parking lot late one night....Hello, loser BYU coeds) was regarding our children going to ballets.

Trevor's words "There is no way in hell our boys are going to the ballet." (Mind, you. Trevor NEVER curses. I am a sailor in comparison) Apparently, he felt strongly about the issue.

We still argue about the same things. But, he's improving. He even went to Phantom of the Opera with me once. (Thanks to Emily and my convincing.)

In conclusion to this rambling, I love Trevor. I love that I found a mountain man who is also business world saavy. He just does it in Wranglers. Actually, he refuses to wear wranglers. He owns more designer jeans than I do.

What an odd man.

For that reason, I have entered him to be on a Man Panel for the TODAY show. (and he doesn't know yet). Won't he just LOVE being amongst all those liberals?

Hehe.