You read that right.
Twenty (20) years of monogamy. “Monogamy” translates to “sex with the same person for the rest of your life.” This was a difficult concept for me, back in my wild youth. But I’m happy to say that everything has worked out terrifically in that department (ifyouknowwhatImean), and altho my eye may have strayed a time or two over the last 20 years, no other body parts did.
Today Dave and I will celebrate by spending the day together. This may not sound like much to YOU, but with our conflicting schedules and Dave’s recent crazy workload, it is the best anniversary gift I could wish for. If you’re anywhere in downtown Chicago today, we will be the ones running wildly along Michigan Avenue, laughing at everyone who has to work, and generally acting like idiots.
Idiots in love.
For yes, you must’ve guessed by now that, despite the constant teasing, the embarrassing photos, and the bitterness over lack of birthday cake, I love Dave very, very much.
And does he love me? Oh, you KNOW he does. (Don’t ever question me like that again.)
But enough of this jibber-jabber. My feelings about Dave and our 20 years together is best expressed not in words but in this special drawing that I keep on my desk:
I hope you all enjoy celebrating our 20 years of married blissitude.
Flintstones came from here