It's our 25th wedding anniversary.
In some ways this story begins when I was 15 -and with my mother. Meeting Dave was almost a decade away, yet. Mothers, I knew from all the "wisdom" accumulated in 15 years of living, lied. Or were seriously deranged. I wasn't sure which. The lie in question went like this. "Sweetie, 'pretty' is a genetic accident. In the end, the guy you want will appreciate your brains, your sense of humor, and your looks." Sarcasm was easily available to me even then, so my response was something along the lines of "Oh yeah... supermodels hear that all the time. Please button your shirt and let's discuss epistemology." In a world that values beauty in women and minimizes intelligence, I was up the dating creek without the tiniest of paddles.
But then, eventually I met a guy who did say that. Well, not literally. I'm sure my shirt was buttoned when we met ;) We sat in a bar (a bar that has a full set of Shakespeare and an OED, in order to resolve factual conflicts that arise) and discussed truth, the universe, and everything in it. For hours and hours and beers and beers. I was done-for.
And here we are, 25 years later. We've never done marriage terribly normally -although I'm not even sure what that means. Living apart for a year is only one example of our strangeness. Nonetheless, it works for us.
I think my sense of humor still escapes him, though. So, my mother wasn't quite right, which turns out to be a relief ;)
Happy anniversary, dear one. I miss you.