We met at the Fountainhead. Later, you told me you remembered me being blond! The Fountainhead isn’t there anymore. We met for drinks the next week at The Stein Club. Gone. That Indian place in Midtown where we met Katie and Judy for dinner? Gone. Three pets, three houses, two kids later, and we’re still together. You still snore just as loud as the first time I heard it. I am still the Goat Man. But we’re still together, eleven years later.
And I wouldn’t change one day of the last eleven years; They have been the best years of my life. You have made my life richer in hundreds of ways. You are my life partner, one half of our united parental front (it’s us against them!), my most trusted confidant, my favorite cruise director, my chosen partner-in-crime, my most loyal supporter, and the first person to tell me honestly when I am wrong. (That doesn’t happen often, of course.) You are my best friend.
You are my steadying hand, my staying hand, my pushing hand, my lifting hand. I hope that I give to you what you give to me. You make me better at everything I do. You have taught me about selflessness. I hope that everyone I love will someday feel this this with another person.
Happy Anniversary to the best boy a girl ever met in a bar.
And in honor of this day, I put a little set of photos of the two of us together on Flickr.
p.s. Thanks for letting me back it up and tuck my toes in when my butt and feet are cold.