Monday was our three year anniversary.
We didn’t celebrate year one or two in a big way. In fact, I don’t think we celebrated at all. They slipped by quietly with some simple, but heartfelt I love you’s. This year we decided why not? Let’s celebrate.
And by celebrate we meant, let’s go out to eat at one of our favorite restaurants and call it an anniversary dinner.
You know what they say about the best laid plans.
After a busy day we said to heck with it and ended up at home, side by side on the couch with our laptops.
It’s okay, we said. We’ll try the whole anniversary celebratin’ thing again tomorrow night.
Fast forward to the next night. Driving to pick up our pizza dinner instead of having it delivered was as romantic as it got.
By the third night, we were fairly certain that our big “Anniversary Night” would not be happening. We weren’t particularly bothered by this. Neither of us are big “date people”. Dressing up for a fancy night out on the town isn’t our thing. After three years of long distant dating, you start to see the romanticism in simply being together.
When our anniversary dinner finally happened, it was low-key, unplanned, and absolutely perfect. We ate delicious burgers and fried pickles here, while watching the Olympics and listening to bluegrass. When we came home that night, Mark surprised me with this book. I had mentioned earlier that I wanted to read it and he, being the cool dude that he is, went and bought it for me.
So here’s to the next three years. I’m sure they’ll be happy ones.