My husband doesn’t know when our wedding anniversary is. It’s January 5. He thinks it’s December 21. But unlike the cliche, he doesn’t know for a good reason.
We were acquaintances in high school and then met again and became friends. That friendship blossomed in a very short time to a best friendship. In the years since we got together, he has revealed to me, “I didn’t want us to happen–I didn’t want a relationship, but I just couldn’t be without you.”
This past week, perhaps due to the upcoming holiday, I have had several conversations about relationships, in particular my marriage. What I tell people is that my husband and I were happy being single. We had both just ended terrible relationships and felt no need to be involved with anyone else. But when it came down to it, we just couldn’t help it.
In sitcom world, I married my rebound. In my world, I married my first and last love.
My husband has told me that he tried to keep from asking me out as long as he could. He finally gave in when he knew that there was not anyone else for him and that he would marry me. Our friendship was so amazing, he wouldn’t have risked it for anything less than forever.
So in his mind the day he finally asked me out on a date, December 21, is our anniversary because that is the day our lives together and our family began.
I don’t mind one little bit.