The Expert and I have been married 10 years tomorrow. I am posting this today because he is convinced that we were married on the 18th of October, 2001.
We were married on October 19th.
I pointed him to our invitation. It’s all some big conspiracy theory, he says. To which I respond: if today is our anniversary, where in the world is my present?
[SBM Note: Since this blog was posted 45 minutes ago, I was presented with said present. He wins. Of course.]
Happy 10th anniversary today to my Expert tomorrow.
In ten years of marriage, I have learned:
- That arguing with an Expert is about like arguing with a toddler. Equally as futile, but considerably more frustrating.
- To listen more. Maybe. Just a little.
- To hug when I am angry, to kiss when I could spit nails, and to drive away when there are fireworks, water balloons, or string bikinis involved.
- To close my eyes and count to “five” when I want to say “you are a jackass.” Then say it anyway.
- That I can count on the Expert to move my stuff, find my stuff, yell at me about buying more stuff, and subsequently telling me “You are hot stuff.”
- Being single is lonely. Marriage can be lonely. But it’s hard to wallow in loneliness when someone is snoring in your ear.
He is strong when I am strong. And strong… when I am weak.
I’ve known you for 18 years, loved you (more or less) for 13 years, and been balled-and-chained to you for 10.
Here’s to another 10 years (that is… if we survive the 70.3 in 11 days).
If not, I am thankful that you have great insurance coverage, and you should feel the same.
I love you. In sickness and in health, in fatness and in triathlon, in red hair and in blonde. You are my dude.