Eat your heart out, Lou Reed. Wait, would that make him a zombie?

I know what I’m writing about tonight and I can’t decide what the leading reason is. There are two reasons that stick out in my head. 1) Because it’s something that’s important to me, I love celebrating successes and successful celebration. I think it’s important to commit this stuff to memory and have something to look back on. I’m also evidently big on cramming multiple things under one reason. 2) I’m fundamentally lazy, so I won’t have to think about it. Both of these reasons are important, but I have no earthly idea which is taking precedence.

I wanna talk about yesterday, my one year anniversary with my girlfriend. It’s notable because we made it this far, it seemed only to deepen our connection and it might have qualified as a perfect day.

As always, I’m far worse at sleeping than she is, so I awoke and rose to get a head start on the festivities. I made a simple honey/soy/garlic marinade for the pork loin and let it refrigerate for an hour before loading it into the slow cooker with a bunch of veggies. I wrote, so as to leave the day free from further responsibility and got stuck into Marvel Heroes 2015 for a few hours. A nice idyllic morning doing Leon stuff on my own, while she gently slumbered behind me.

She couldn’t sleep forever (well, she probably could), so she roused to consciousness around 1pm. While she absconded to the bathroom, I got her gift ready. Unbeknownst to her, I’d prepared. I’d been pretty secretive, talking to a bunch of friends and plotting in secret. I thought I’d figured out a neat idea, skewing sentimental without getting cheesy. Then again, that was for her to decide, not me.

She came out of the bathroom to see my lying in bed with a beautifully wrapped gift in front of me (I actually piked on the wrapping, paying some gift store people to do it for me. My wrapping skills are legendarily bad). She slowly made her way through the multitude of ribbons and tore it open. A plain black base. This told her nothing. She flipped it over to see a silver picture frame segmented into seven openings. In one was a short poem I’d written. She grinned, hugged me and said thank you, that it was one of the sweetest things anyone had gotten her. “The photos are all stock images, right?” she asked. I smiled and shook my head, not wanting to tip her off too much. “But they’re all black and white…” her voice trailed off, eyes widened. She turned to me, eyes welling up. I think I did good.

In each frame was a photo of the place where we had one of our firsts: The place we’d shared our first kiss. Where we first had sex. The restaurant where we first used the word “relationship”. Where we first said the words “I love you”. The cafe where we first talked about what a future together might look like. Five big firsts, for our first year together.

We cuddled, which moved on to great sex, buoyed by the rush of closeness and intimacy. Love only makes these things better, and I’d be almost surprised if our amorous feelings weren’t forming a visible, tangible aura.

By the time we moved out to get lunch, it was almost 4pm. Eschewing fancy clothes for yoga/track pants and comfy sweaters, we went for maximum coziness. We found a small, cosy sushi place and ordered a bunch of tasty rolls. That morning I’d thought back to an excellent list of questions I’d always considered going through with a partner. I brought it up and we jumped right in. Phenomenal questions, they fostered discussion and an even deeper understanding of each other’s values than we’d thought possible. I don’t know how it says it takes 45 minutes, we went for almost 2.5 hours and didn’t even finish the list. The questions were complex, layered and required thought. Her answers were on point, reaffirming just how much I lucked out in meeting her. She’s a special sort, which I knew, but didn’t know to quite that extent. It was hard to tear our eyes away from each other. To any bystanders we were probably just that gross mushy couple with the constantly misty eyes. Fuck ’em, we earned it.

Coming back home with tummies full of sushi, we slovenly fell upon the Lego I’d bought at a garage sale a few weeks prior. Creating space craft and alien pets, we worked out a brief narrative to attach to them. Next up, we had to fortify the bed with pillows to make a low level couch fort. We pulled the pork out of the slow cooker and served up dinner. After having crafted purpose built lounging stations on the bed, we settled down for dinner while watching one of my all time desert island top 5 movies: High Fidelity.

Best day. Love this woman. We do the good thing and we do it well.


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