The Jamaican Husband Story- Part 3: Mr & Mrs

Aren’t caught up on the Jamaican Hubs story yet? 
Go read Part 1 and Part 2 first!
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Ahh where were we? Oh yea... showing up to a soccer match with a hibiscus for your mister is a guaranteed hook, line & sinker. 

By the time Tuesday evening rolled around we were nearly going steady, atleast in Bachelor/Bachelorette terms we would be. 

 We did all the normal things a blossoming couple does on their first date – had shots poured down our throat as we got off the bus… played raunchy ‘pop-the-balloon-in-a-sexual-position’ games… wandered tipsy’ly through the Margaritaville gift shop arm in arm while convincing “mommy” we were gonna have a “chocolately smooth Jamerican baby”

 

 Ahh. Young love. 

 

When it came time for ring shopping, hubs’ perseverance began to show.  As we wandered through the shops on the beach one sunny afternoon we stumbled upon a table full of rings made from conk shells. Much like Goldilocks, he tried every ring after ring atop that table until finally settling on one that fit my finger. But of course, he was on the clock, so this was between keeping score at a beach volleyball game, and busting out into the clubdance.

But alas, seashell jewelry adorning my finger, we were official. Well, official minus the other things that make a marriage official. You know… the license, the kiss, the consummation part.       Eh minor details.

Much of the day was spent gallivanting around the resort, accepting congratulations from most and the occasional sidelong glance from those who couldn’t take a joke.

We rounded out the week with a trip to a local beach bar, Alfred’s. Arm in arm we enjoyed the sounds of a reggae band, while watching mom get hit on by countless Rastafarians. I don’t think there could have been better entertainment.

I still talk to the hubs nearly every day, a good mix of texting, facebook chatting, skyping or phone calls make for a prospering marriage. Who knows, maybe I’ll even make it back down to Negril to see him one more time before he moves to Canada this fall for performing arts school.

So that, my friends, is the Jamaican Hubs Story. Chelsea + Shadrick = 4eva. Or at least until the next cute girl shows up at the resort!

Oh, and the chocolaty Jamarican baby… mom is still waiting on that one. No doubt in my mind that she will graciously accept another grandchild with open arms!