It occurs to me, in my current slightly inebriated state (when was the last time I drunk-blogged?) that I neglected posts regarding both my anniversary and my husband’s birthday. Shame.
So! First! On August seventh Darren and I celebrated our first anniversary. It was a low-key day; we celebrated by sort of recreating our first date: a movie, and burgers at Johnny Rocket’s. Plus we got delicious cheeses from a store at the Mall of America. No big deal.
Then the twentieth was Darren’s twenty-sixth birthday. I made him the meals he requested (BLTs for lunch and meatloaf for dinner, plus DQ ice cream cake) and then we got drunk at the Half Time Rec. Pure glory.
I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing more to either of these stories. Pretty much, I’m just a lucky lady to have married such an excellent dude. He keeps me grounded and mostly sane, and we have tons of fun together. He loves food about as much as I do, and he doesn’t mind my tendency toward hermitude. Honestly, I look back on the other guys I dated and that’s sort of the biggest deal breaker for most of them (with one exception, but there are very different reasons for the disaster that that relationship would’ve been). Sorry guys: I’m lazy and I hate people and I found a fella who is okay with that. Your loss? Yeah, probably. I’m awesome.
I’m glad that Darren and I can sit in the same room, doing our own thing on separate computers or whatever, and it’s still a night well spent. We both take pleasure in grocery shopping and the doofy little chores we do together. We can go out with our own friends, without each other, and that’s just fine. At the end of the night we get to come home to each other, and we get to share our ridiculously comfortable bed – us and the dog and sometimes one of the cats – and that is what makes life sweet.
So maybe he leaves his socks around and I have to bribe him to do the dishes. He also opens jars for me and gives really good massages. Among countless other things.