Today is dh's birthday. It's also an anniversary of sorts for us; fifteen years ago today he invited me to his 21st birthday party. It was the first time he had ever asked me anywhere, which was nice of him as I was actually dating someone else at the time.
Needless to say, I ditched that boy (a very good thing) and took up with the man that is now my husband of eleven years. I can not say that we've had fifteen years of smooth sailing. Actually, there was a long stint where we weren't together and I dated an incredibly cool guy who was dh's polar opposite. There was also our rocky first year of marriage (held together by the glue of my pregnancy with dd) and several completely passionless months in 1999 that made me wonder if I really had what it took to be with this man "until death do us part."
By and large, though, the path has been one that I feel blessed to travel. I woke up next to my honey this morning and realized how nice it was to have someone with whom you have a history of shared events and experiences. Someone who loves you in cocktail dresses and torn blue jeans. Someone who is as comfortable as an old shirt, but who still surprises you with unexpected bursts of passion. Someone who walks into a room and makes it feel like a better place.
Dh is 36 now. He doesn't have the adorable floppy curls I feel in love with in college anymore. His beard is the most amazing combination of red, brown and white bristles. He still plays soccer, but aside from a weekly pick-up game with some Spanish-speaking friends, most of his field time is spent coaching boys under the age of 8. My husband is still as skinny as a rail, but chances are good his nightly bowl of ice cream will catch up to him as he creeps closer to his fourth decade. He is as finicky as he ever was--about clothes, furniture, you name it. And he still likes a dizzying array of too-deep foreign films that leave me snoozing on the couch. But oh, he is good to us. We are blessed to have him. Happy Birthday, Dh.