When my mom was planning my bridal shower, she found a game that requires the bride and groom to answer a set of questions separately, and then you compare their answers, seeing how many of their answers are the same. We didn’t end up playing the game at the shower, but Matt and I aced it. All but one or two of our answers were exactly the same, and the two that weren’t exactly the same were our second guesses.  We know each other well.

One of the questions was “Who wears the pants in the relationship?” While I’m sure the question was designed to stir up some good-humored controversy, Matt’s and my response was “We share the pants.”

And it’s true. We consult one another whenever possible. We try to be on the same page. But while we chuckled at the image of us sharing pants, we had no idea that some real-life foreshadowing was going on.

I mentioned before that in the whirlwind of the day, Matt and I did not completely have our belongings prepared for after the wedding. We headed off to the hotel without much thought as to what we would need. I didn’t think of it until we got to the hotel, but I didn’t have a hanger or garment bag for my dress, and no bags to put my dress’s undergarments in, either. I didn’t think too much of this, just hung my dress as well as I could from he hotel’s hangers, and stuffed my garments in my suitcase. Matt did the same with his tux, and we figured we’d just have to carry them out like that the next morning. At least our event was over and it didn’t matter how they looked.

But the next morning I realized I had forgotten something even more important. I began to get dressed in my ordinary clothes and realized, standing there in my underwear, that I had forgotten my pants. Uh oh.

The morning of the wedding, I had put on a clean pair of pants, planning on packing them up after I put on my dress, so I could wear them the next day. Well, in the hustle and bustle, my clothes never made it into my suitcase.

Visions of checking out of the hotel in my underwear flashed through my head and I began to panic. I told Matt to call my dad and have him bring me my pants. When my dad picked up and Matt explained the scenario, I could hear my dad’s laughter through the phone.

“Please bring me my pants!” I pleaded urgently into the phone.

We had just twenty minutes to check out, and if he was going to bring my pants, he needed to do it now.

My dad proposed that I just wear Matt’s pants to check out and then I could change when I got to their house. I was not thrilled with this idea–man pants aren’t flattering or very comfortable. But Matt surrendered his pants for me to try on.

What do you know, they fit. Not great. They are definitely man pants, and I certainly didn’t feel very attractive, but I could wear them home.

So we shared the pants. I wore Matt’s pants, and he wore his tux pants. We quickly checked out of the hotel and made it home, where I slipped on my own blue jeans and breathed a sigh of relief. My own pants have never felt so good.