Happy Anniversary to my Man to Die For

Today is not just election day. Nosiree Bob. It is also my 23rd anniversary. 23 years ago today, I got off an airplane in Denver, Colorado after my sister's wedding. Waiting for me at the gate (back when you could still do that) was this stoner dude with a cheesy mustache, cigarette hanging from his mouth and a beer hanging from his hand. He had the hugest grin on his face. I literally flew down the gangway and into his arms.

You see, for the 2 months prior to this, we'd been playing that sexual tension game – being best friends and knowing that if one of us just took that step, we'd turn into lovers. Well, all it took was being separated for a few days. Since that day, 23 years ago, we've been inseparable.

I know I’ve posted several times about my hub, aka, the Man to Die For, but I really can't say enough about how lucky I feel, especially given the events of the last week. My good friend lost her husband this weekend, and my heart goes out to her. I thought twice about posting this; it almost felt like I was flaunting my happiness in the face of her sadness, loss, and grief. But I'm hopeful that, if she reads this, she will be reminded of all the wonderful times she shared with Bill, and all of the wonderful memories they made together.

So, Bob & I spent 2 months playing that game, as we’ve all read about in romance novels... the will they/won’t they/best friends to lovers theme we all love so much. And I fell truly in love; heartstopping, endless, corny, be all, end all love, with that stoner guy who chain smoked and chain drank (is that a term?).

Together, we've lost virginity (well, mine – even though he wishes he'd never slept with those 2 girls before me, those bitches), had enormous amounts of great fun, graduated college, moved across the United States, lived in sin, been married, made 2 amazing children together, decided how to raise those children in an interfaith marriage with little to no conflict among two very religious families, lived through alcoholism and made it through the other side, lived through 2 testosterone-laden children and made it through the other side (we’re not quite finished, but we're getting there), lived through the death of a parent, laughed and loved and cried, and are still madly in love 23 years later.

I cannot imagine my life for one minute without him. He makes me laugh every day. He makes me cry when he is tender. I love the brush of his hand across my face. I love that he guides me with his hand on my back when we walk together. I love it when he dumps warm laundry on me. Yeah, I'm weird like that. I love watching him parent our two children. He's such an amazing father. I love watching him play his guitar – he feels so free. Most of all, I love being with him, quietly, head on his shoulder, just... being.

So, happy anniversary, Bob, my one true love. I can’t wait to see what the next 23 years hold for us. You are my HEA.