Wednesday, June 6, marked our two-year anniversary. On Tuesday night, B. and I lay in bed talking about very early on in our relationship, before there was even really a ‘we’ to speak of. We had been kind of dating for about a month and a half and were very carefully not talking about relationship statuses. And what I remember most from that time is all the meals I missed. We’d meet for coffee at 3PM and then around dinner time, we’d still be there, talking. I’d be too afraid that if I mentioned dinner or my hunger, the date would end, so I didn’t. You guys know how much I love food, so voluntarily missing meals? I must have loved this guy, even then.
B. will kill me if I reveal too much personal stuff, so I’ll just keep it at that. I just want to tell you that I had a big exam (on systematic theology, no less) the morning after our first kiss. I remember sitting at my desk, trying to study with a big smile on my face, and floating through the exam. That was a pretty magical summer.
Two years later, there’s less magic but more love. We fight a lot, but we’re getting better at listening. We still like to eat. One of my favorite things to do on the weekend with B. is go downtown and have coffee together–except we won’t have long, meaningful conversations. No, we’ll both bring our books and/or magazines of choice and occasionally point out interesting tidbits to the other. I love that I have found a guy that relishes being alone together as much as I do.
I also love that he sends me links every day, that he buys my favorite foods while I’m away, that he allows me to mess up his house every week with my stuff and only gently asks me to gather it all up when I’ve taken over all empty surfaces. He’s proud of me when I accomplish something but also when I don’t. He tells me I’m beautiful but gets nervous when I tell him the same. He cheerfully lugs the groceries home from wherever we are, and always has an extensive plan for our days out. He is a good man, a kind man, and I love him for it.