I suppose I should take this seriously. Nowadays it is extremely rare for any married couple to last ten years, or even five years.
But nah. Serious isn't my style. Nor is it his, as evidenced by the fact that he wants to make tinfoil hats later on (traditional gift for ten years: Aluminum/Tin).
So here is a brief sum up of our life together. We met online, on a message board. Shocking twelve years ago, but normal now. We apparently had chemistry together from the start (below is a copy and paste job from the original message board):
Subject: Re: lim as y-->infinity The People Or Persons Abov
Written By: Syncronos on 12/06/02 at 03:17 p.m.
< still says that ^*Cube and ^*Jess need to hook up...the sparks I'm seeing are amazing...
One year later, we were together. Two years later, marriage. And then a baby. And then a big move.
And time marched on.
Ten years ago, I tied myself to this person, which to me was a remarkable thing. I never expected to be loved or to share my life with anyone. I never expected to have a family, to have THIS.
I don't regret it. Even when we're fighting, even when we're raging to the point of us screaming words we shouldn't be, I don't regret it. This man has the patience of a saint, because I can be a horrible person at times. My health issues are enormous, but still he stays.
Sometimes I feel guilty. I think he could have done better. I think he should have had more of a life, a better spouse, more kids, etc. Then I realize that if he had wanted that, he would have left years ago.
Huh. I got more serious there than I intended. I make marriage sound like hell on earth.
It's not. We are absolutely stupid at times, with laughter over things only we understand. Our kid has inherited our goofiness and nerdiness, along with a healthy dose of my husband's smarts. He is our joy, even when he is being a challenging butt badger.
Then there are the times, the sweet times, the times I won't talk about because they are my cherished memories that show how much love is between us.
I guess I should wrap this novel up. I can only end it with a goofy family pic we took at the Oriental Institute in October. I think it represents our little family well: utter fucking dorks.
Happy anniversary, my husband. I love you.