Posts Tagged ‘Anniversary’

On This Day In History, My Life Changed Forever. Twice.

Dear LOML:

Sixteen years ago today, I emptied my closet and freaked out because I didn’t think anything I owned was good enough to wear on our first date.

Sixteen years ago today, you kissed me on that country bar dance floor, and I knew that you were “THE ONE.” I told everyone I knew that you were HIM, but no one believed me. Because people who meet in country bars (or bars in general) don’t ever stay together longer than three months.

Sixteen years ago today, I didn’t want the night to end. Because I thought I was dreaming. And I thought that when I woke up, I’d still be stuck in an abusive relationship.

Ten years ago today, you made having breakfast with you every day a legal requirement for me. You had six years to think about what you were getting yourself into, but you did it anyway. And then you even allowed my family on our honeymoon.

Ten years ago today, you made me the happiest woman on the planet.

Ten years ago today will always be one of my favorite memories.

Because ten years ago today led to Jake, and then Benny.

You are the best husband that a girl like me could ask for.

Happy 10th Anniversary, Sweetie.

My two, seven, and thirty-eight year old boys.


04 2010

15 Years

My Big, Fat, Mexican Wedding

My Big, Fat, Mexican Wedding

A couple of days ago, I wrote about how I met the LOML. Today, it’s all about how we got together.

This one’s for you, Sweetie.


On April 8, 1994, I walked through the doors of a country bar, all nervous and anxious because I knew you’d be there.

A few minutes later, I’d learn that my BFF had put on her “bad cop” costume, stuffed you into a booth, and mercilessly interrogated you prior to my arrival. But you didn’t care. You thought it was kind of sweet, actually.

And you also didn’t mind that, when we decided to go get a bite to eat, she tagged along, crowning herself the night’s “chaperone.” Nor did you care that the closest place to the bar that served pizza and beer was Chuck E. Cheese.

There we were. The three of us. On our first date together. Surrounded by screaming kids and talking animals.

You couldn’t tell, but my legs were shaking.

The hours that followed went by like a blur. We danced and drank and talked. We’d go outside to get air, and then danced and drank and talked some more.

At the end of the night, in the middle of the dance floor, I looked up at you so I could say something. But before I could speak, you kissed me.

And it wasn’t just a garden variety, obligatory “first date” peck. This was a Rhett-Butler-make-the-girl-feel-like-Scarlet-O’Hara movie kiss.

You didn’t notice that I’d stopped breathing. Just stopped. Held it in. Because for some reason I thought that if I let out a breath, the kiss would somehow manage to escape.

Then you said, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you walk in two days ago.”

And my first thought was, ‘Really, because when I walked through the door two days ago I looked like a wet rat.’

Feigning embarrassment, I said, “Oh, come on. You probably say that to all the girls . . .”

“No, really. My friends have been teasing me for two days straight. I’m, like . . . I mean . . . I really like you.” Then you kissed me again.

And at that moment, I knew.

I knew that you were HIM.

Six years later, to the day, you made me your wife. Even though all the signs along the way screamed, “Run. RUN. As fast as you can. And don’t look back. She’s got more personalities than Sybil. And that family of hers . . . You’re kidding, right? Have you NOT met her Dad?”

You knew full well what you were getting yourself into, but you did it anyway.

Thank GOD you don’t believe in signs.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetie.


04 2009