Dear Andrew.

November 3, 2008 at 4:12 pm 5 comments

Dear Andrew,


Three years ago today, I met you in a totally bourgeois-y alehouse in Ye Olde Fairhaven. We played Trivial Pursuit, and either I let you win or you let me think I let you win, I can’t remember which. We talked until the bartenders put the chairs up on tables in a pointed attempt to get us to move toward the door. You offered me a ride home, and I accepted, and you didn’t kiss me, but I wished that you had.


When I got inside my apartment, something inside me screamed, “don’t let that be the last time you see each other.” So I told you I liked you. My heart sang when you said you felt the same. I told you to call me when you were single and you called me the next evening. 


We have been inseparable ever since, best friends and so much more. And it has been incredible, even when I’ve wanted to strangle you, which has been far less often than with any other person I’ve loved. That is amazing, because you can be so very, very annoying.


I don’t care if this makes people reading vomit, I really don’t. It isn’t enough to say it only to you. I tell you so often, but I feel it so intensely, I feel it in a shout at the top of my lungs, but I turn it down to an indoor voice or a whisper, because shouting it like that would hurt your ears and startle people on the street and probably cause car accidents, and I never want my love for you to cause pain and injury. 


I love you so much, I want to rent billboards and skywriters to proclaim it. If I had to dream up the perfect person to accompany me through the rest of my life, I couldn’t come up with someone half as suitable as you – my imagination is simply not good enough to create you from thin air. Instead I stumbled into you. Everything fell into place, and my whole body sighed in relief: “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.” 


The happiness I feel with you, in our home, in your arms, in your heart, is beyond any happiness I ever could expect or even rightfully deserve. 


They told us this would be hard, but loving you and being your spouse and partner is the easiest choice I’ve ever made. Every day, I choose you, and every day that choice continues to be as easy as writing my name, as easy as breathing. Even when I want to strangle you, I know I want you there when I breathe my last, and know, even if that day is 200 years from now, it will not have been enough time.


Happy anniversary, my love.


Entry filed under: marriage. Tags: .

Ugh She Had a Suitcase Full of Noble Intentions.

5 Comments Add your own

  • 1. jodifur  |  November 3, 2008 at 6:38 pm

    Happy Anniversary.

    And welcome back.

  • 2. Heather B.  |  November 4, 2008 at 4:19 am

    Surprisingly enough, NO VOMIT HERE!

    Very, very sweet, A.

  • 3. Neil  |  November 23, 2008 at 1:16 pm

    That was a very special expression of love.

  • 4. magpie  |  November 29, 2008 at 4:08 pm

    Lovely post. When I met my partner, I met my soulmate. And I usually want to vomit when I hear people say that, but it’s the truth. I’m glad you found someone like that. 🙂

  • 5. teh Duchess  |  December 11, 2008 at 5:04 pm

    I bounced over here from Mamapop because I love your columns there and WOW. I am so glad I did because this post? Breathtakingly lovely, exactly how I feel about my incredible mate and said so much better than I have ever been able to put into words. I guess that’s why Tracy and Amalah pays you the big bucks, huh? Hope your anniversary was fantastic!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed

I also write for:

Latest Twitter Ramblings

Five Star Friday


November 2008
« Sep   Dec »

%d bloggers like this: