Nine Years

Delta and I kicked off a series of five big anniversaries today. Tomorrow is the 9th anniversary of our 1st date. But not really. Our 1st date was actually the first Saturday of April, only I had to kick it back a month for leverage in another one of Delta's infamous decision making debacles. He was supposed to get out of the Corps and move to Charlotte. I wanted him to stay at LeJeune and wait for me to get out. One of my big arguments was that we had been dating over six months. I think back then that seemed like an eternity. I had a very black and white system of criteria : if I knew, without any doubt, that I could spend the rest of my life on a desert island with a man, he was the one I would marry. (Don't judge me - I was just a baby) Delta's criteria, as a recently divorced man, was to never marry again. My lame six-month argument, based on a lie, landed me the man I'd go to the island of "Lost" with. (Note to fate: please don't test me) I won, though one could argue it was a win-win situation. Eventually, long after he signed my marriage license, I told Delta Hotel the truth but since he can't remember any of our anniversaries or any of the kids birthdays anyway, it doesn't really matter.

I always get a little sentimental on these days. I bought him a new pair of underwear, green, for St. Paddy's Day and patterned with little hairy kiwi fruits. (Again, this sort of underwear humor amuses me greatly. ) He, not knowing it was a day of any importance at all, bought me nothing. But when I came into the kitchen this morning riding on a rogue, out of cycle hormone, complaining that nobody likes me, he opened up his arms and said "This person loves you." And there I was, on my island, with the one person I'd want to be there with. (Besides my kids. I'm NOT tempting you, Fate.)