731 days

Dear Andrew,

Two years ago today, I met you at a party.  I was grumpy that night, and quite frankly, I almost didn’t go.  I hadn’t taken a shower that night; instead, I threw on some makeup and a semi-cute shirt and promised myself that I’d only stay for 20 minutes.

Instead, I stayed all night, talking to you.

I still consider it one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.  We hit it off that night: you told me about school, poker, the poker book you and a friend were working on, and I talked about my first year of teaching and how much I loved it.  When we said goodbye close to 1 AM, it was weird.  I kept waiting for you to ask for my number or something.  But you didn’t.  Still, deep down, I knew it wasn’t the end.  I sent you the breeziest email I could manage on Monday, offering to show you around California since you’d just arrived from Illinois a few months prior.  You confessed later that you were going to ask our mutual friend for my contact information, too.  We exchanged “witty banter” that I totally have saved on my computer, so don’t even try to act like you were all suave and such.

Our first date, four days later, started off a bit…oddly.  “I Am Legend” is not a romantic movie, and I ran a red light out of nervousness.  You mocked my love of rap music.  Still, that night, we shared our first kiss and it was then that I knew.  I just knew.

our first New Years: December 2007

The first year of our relationship was tumultuous, and sure, this year has had its bumps, but overall, it’s been amazing.  We have taken some huge steps this year: I visited your family for the first time last Christmas, we spent a significant amount of time in Illinois this summer, and you’ve been included in my family even more than before.  You’ve met nearly all of my friends, and they all adore you.  We spent weekends in Tahoe, Reno, and San Francisco.  We moved in together, which could have it’s own series of posts, but has ultimately been the best thing ever.  I love nothing more than coming home to you at night and waking up to you in the morning.

This year, we learned a lot about one another.  It was a stressful year, to say the least.  I learned more about how to communicate my needs to you, and you learned about how to support me in the midst of struggles.  We learned how to work together in practical things like who is going to empty the dishwasher or cook dinner.  We learned more about how different we are, but also about the similarities that bring us together.  It’s been a year of dance parties at red lights, of late night conversations that make me tired for work but cause me to smile at the thought of them, of laughing and crying and growing.  Together.

This year, you reminded me what a sweetheart you are.  You surprised me at work on Valentine’s Day with a new iPod and lunch and flowers and a mini-fridge (a teacher’s best friend).  You helped me start my blog and were incredibly supportive of me once I started writing—and even guest posted for me.  You listened to me, held me when I cried and we have laughed so, so, so hard.  I love that we’ve created our own little language and rituals and world.  You’ve let me be a real jerk and forgiven me for it, and you’ve apologized for those days when it’s your turn to be terrible.  We’ve shared fancy dinners and glasses of wine and Fun Fridays.  You’ve made me want to be a better communicator, to let you in, and to put down my defenses in order to be closer to you.

*in San Francisco last weekend

Most of all, this year has made me excited.  Excited for what’s to come.  Excited about where we’ve come from.  Excited, happy, thrilled and delighted, as always, to be your baby, your pumpkin and all of the other names that I will never, ever blog.  Thanks for being my best friend, my favorite person, my listening ear, my partner in crime and my love.

I love you so much.

Love,

Amy