Four years ago, I married my best friend.
Has it really been four years? Has it really only been four years?! Hubbs and I have this ongoing joke where one of us will say how long we’ve been together (7 years) or married (4 years), and the other will say: Really? That’s it? Because it feels like 30 years…
But there’s truth to that joke as well: We’ve packed a lot into those four years. Sometimes it feels like we’ve lived a lifetime in the seven years we’ve been together.
Did I ever tell you how we met? Probably not, but Hubbs and I are sappy and sentimental — so we like to tell each other about it: He was the main sports designer for a newspaper. I was the fresh-out-of-college intern for said paper. That’s right, Hubbs dated the 23-year-old intern. (And for a little bit, he was 30 while I was still 23. Scandalous!) But I was infatuated way before that: I noticed him the day I interviewed for the job.
He was hanging out at his desk, which was covered — and I mean covered — in goofy knick-knacks, bobbleheads, and talking toys. He and the other sports guys were shooting the breeze, doing the pre-budget thing. And this I distinctly remember: Someone said something and he threw back his head and roared with laughter. There was just something so … free and confident about him. I actually had trouble concentrating during my next interview.
Once I was hired as the intern, I focused on proving myself to the desk. And he focused on ignoring me. Apparently, the last intern was a total flake and almost everyone hated her. It was something my new bosses weren’t afraid to tell me during the interview process. And something my new co-workers shared with me once I earned their trust. (And probably to make me feel better about constantly getting the cold shoulder from him.)
But little by little, the Hubbs started to thaw to me. We’d go out to dinner in group settings, which only made me like him more. I was doing the typical intern thing, and volunteered for practically everything — including typing in the agate on the sports page one night. (Torture. Pure torture. But it earned me the nickname Agate Girl from the guys and after that I was officially “in the club” for saving their collective butts on deadline.)
And as he thawed, I dropped some atom-bomb worthy hints — but he didn’t get it. For some reason, me saying: we should go see a movie sometime — just the two of us, wasn’t straightforward enough. Me finding excuses to hang out around the sports area wasn’t obvious enough either. Although I’m positive everyone else got it. (When the 50-year-old dudes in sports wink at you conspiratorially and make up excuses for you to come over and hang out? Yeah, they know.) I had given up on him — and of making a fool out of myself — when he finally asked me out.
Cute story, no? How about the fact that we were found out by my boss, when walking around the downtown area holding hands before work one day? (Or that my boss suddenly warmed to Hubbs after that day?) Good times. That wasn’t awkward at all.
So in honor of Hubbs and our four years of wedded, shackled bliss (hee!), here’s a list of things that have changed since we got married:
- We don’t work at newspapers anymore;
- We have “normal” jobs, where we get to work from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday;
- We’re homeowners;
- We’re owned by one Princess Fuzzybutt, aka Ripley;
- We have two new (for us) cars;
- We have the time/ability to visit with friends and family on weekends and holidays;
- You have a new smile, which you only give to Sean. And it melts my heart every time I see it;
- We have an amazing son; and
- Coming in December, we’ll have a daughter — who I’m sure will also be amazing.
And here are some things that haven’t changed:
- You still make me laugh every day;
- You still randomly surprise me with your sweetness (often at the oddest moments);
- You still make my heart flutter when you smile mischeviously at me;
- You’re still my rock;
- I love you a little bit more every day.
Happy anniversary, honey!