That's it. I'm tired of it.

You know what? I'm tired of beating around "the fiance."

That wasn't a confession of being a domestic abuser. I mean I'm about to out him. Are you ready for this? This is a big deal. If you're not ready, don't read the rest of this post. I'm serious. It's a big commitment. Soon, you'll know his name and a few choice details about him, and you may become emotionally attached. Read ahead at your own risk. I'm serious.

This is something I can't take back. It's something you're going to have to live with for the rest of your lives. Basically, because I am going to live with him the rest of my life, too, and it's only fair. This blog isn't going anywhere anytime soon, and (dangit) neither is he. (Kidding on the dangit part.)

I'm going to level with you, only so I can avoid saying "the fiance," "my fiance," "him," "that jerk," etc. I took a vote. He wanted to stay anonymous to keep a level of mystery around him. I voted to out him. And I count for three, making it three to one.

His name is Dave.

There.

Don't you feel so much closer to me right now? I know I do. I can stop that ridiculous charade. Gosh. I feel as if a weight has been lifted.

(Photo: Yeah. This won't be one of "those" blogs, all about "us" and "we" and "isn't he cute," mainly because he'd throw up all over the place. But I figured while I was outing him, I might as well out him all the way. That's what he looks like when he's watching TV.)