The Boyfriend and I normally can't be bothered with our anniversary. Actually, I tend to forget it half the time (yes, the girl in this relationship tends to forget, you read that right). But today is pretty special because it marks 10 years that we've been together.
Not bad for two people who have nothing in common.
Ours is a story of true love. We met in college. At a fraternity party. And um, he took one too many laps around the punch bowl and kept forgetting my name.
"You know, Wendy? Like in Peter Pan?" Duh.
We were "just friends" with complicated feelings for each other for a while. I hit a self-destructive mode (well, as self-destructive as I'm capable of getting), he stuck by me, and I eventually pulled my head out of my ass when he started spending time with another girl. Skank.
Yeah, I got jealous. I'm not above admitting that I was a selfish, self-absorbed little girl. Bad Wendy. Bad.
Finally he gave me an ultimatum, I said "OK" and the rest, as they say, is history.
Ten years is a long time. Especially when you factor in what we've been through. He nursed me through a serious broken heart, and he matured right before my eyes. He's followed me, and I've followed him. It's the only romantic relationship I've ever been in where I've felt totally comfortable. Like I didn't have to hide anything. He has never made me feel stupid, inferior, silly or anything less than beautiful. He's made me laugh, he's made me cry, and he's kissed me senseless more times than I'll admit to in public.
He's a good man who doesn't realize he's a good man, and I know with every fiber of my being that he loves me. I know it when the sun rises, and I know it when the sun sets. I know it when he says it and when he doesn't. And best of all, he never nags me about the 900+ books I have stuffed in our office closet. Some people might say it's because he gave up. I think it's because he loves me.
Happy anniversary sweetheart.