By Ted Mosby, Architect
Wow, what a ride. When I started telling this story I had no idea how long it would take. Looking back, it hurts me as a parent to think of all of the major events my children missed as I rambled on– proms, homecomings, graduations, both middle and high school… but they stuck by me. They sat there through countless anecdotes, tangents, and delivery pizzas when I couldn’t stop long enough to cook.
Look, I know you’re all pretty mad at me right now. “Again with the blue French horn?” you shouted. Many of you cursed my name and condemned my life choices. And that’s fine. But just know that you’re wrong. No one even gets why I told this story.
Let’s start with some basic math. I started my story eight years ago, right? And if it’s been six years since she died, I started telling the story two years before that. That line about me staying by her side when she got sick? That was just a little white lie. I was sitting at my desk telling Luke and Penny about Lily and Barney not having sex when they called to tell me she kicked the bucket.
So do you understand? I didn’t actually start this story to tell my kids about their mother. No, How I Met Your Mother was only chapter one of a greater saga, the story of the greatest man I’ve ever known: Barney Stinson. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be and more, and I’m doing my best to make sure all the world comes to revere his name and the Bro Code.
Don’t hate me, America. I only want to spread the word about the most legendary man the world will ever know and live out the rest of my days with the love of my life. Please understand.
I’ll be back soon with Chapter 2: How I Turned Gay with Barney.
Ted Mosby, Architect