We met five years ago this week. I was a second year law student with spring finals fast approaching. The thought of abandoning my study cave left me teeming with anxiety. But I did leave. To meet you. I think at the time we both made the date to humor our younger sisters. It was their idea for us to go out. I think we were both skeptical. They were in high school. What could they possibly know? How very wrong we were. And how very, very right they were.
So I made the trip to French Roast, a small cafe on Broadway. You were already there when I arrived. Leaning up against the ubiquitous Manhattan scaffolding. Waiting. For me. I approached you. Nervously. You looked up at me and smiled. Nervously. For the very first time, your blue, blue eyes met mine.
We got a table outside, and sat for hours. Talking, sharing stories, laughing. Not polite laughter. No. Loud, uncontrollable, tears-rolling-down-my-face laughter. We could have stayed there talking all night long. You walked me home afterwards. The 10 blocks seemed to pass by in an instant. We lingered over goodbye outside my building. And then I returned to my study cave. I called my sister. "Best first date ever," I said. I learned later that you called your sister and said the same. I sat down at my desk. But I couldn't study. Not that night. Because this was different. This was Something.
We went out twice more that very same week. Movie and Dinner. Bowling. The setting didn't seem to matter. Because when we were together, it was simply magic. This was definitely different. This was definitely Something.
We danced the new couples dance over the next few months. I met your family. You met mine. We joined friends. We talked. We learned. About each other. About ourselves. We shared a summer filled with fun. And those first, tentative words of love. Whispered at first. And then spoken louder. And often. Summer turned into fall. We shared Friday breakfasts in Central Park and New York City adventures. Together. We shared birthdays and holidays and family occasions. Together. Always together.
And one day, you asked me a question. You asked in the best way I could have imagined. In a way perfect for me. For us. And I said the word I had been waiting to say. Yes. And a few months later we stood before family and friends and said something to each other that was both simple and profound. I choose you. Forever. Always.
For me this anniversary, of the day we first met, is the most important of all. Because without this one, we would have none of the others. And I am endlessly grateful for all of those others. Because finding you, finding each other, is nothing short of miraculous. You are my everything. My all. You make me smile. You make me laugh. You make me feel. You make me think. You make me dream. You make me hope. You are my husband. My best friend. My forever man. I choose you. And this life. Our life. Forever. Always.
To the past five years.
And to the many, many more years to come.
So I made the trip to French Roast, a small cafe on Broadway. You were already there when I arrived. Leaning up against the ubiquitous Manhattan scaffolding. Waiting. For me. I approached you. Nervously. You looked up at me and smiled. Nervously. For the very first time, your blue, blue eyes met mine.
We got a table outside, and sat for hours. Talking, sharing stories, laughing. Not polite laughter. No. Loud, uncontrollable, tears-rolling-down-my-face laughter. We could have stayed there talking all night long. You walked me home afterwards. The 10 blocks seemed to pass by in an instant. We lingered over goodbye outside my building. And then I returned to my study cave. I called my sister. "Best first date ever," I said. I learned later that you called your sister and said the same. I sat down at my desk. But I couldn't study. Not that night. Because this was different. This was Something.
We went out twice more that very same week. Movie and Dinner. Bowling. The setting didn't seem to matter. Because when we were together, it was simply magic. This was definitely different. This was definitely Something.
We danced the new couples dance over the next few months. I met your family. You met mine. We joined friends. We talked. We learned. About each other. About ourselves. We shared a summer filled with fun. And those first, tentative words of love. Whispered at first. And then spoken louder. And often. Summer turned into fall. We shared Friday breakfasts in Central Park and New York City adventures. Together. We shared birthdays and holidays and family occasions. Together. Always together.
And one day, you asked me a question. You asked in the best way I could have imagined. In a way perfect for me. For us. And I said the word I had been waiting to say. Yes. And a few months later we stood before family and friends and said something to each other that was both simple and profound. I choose you. Forever. Always.
For me this anniversary, of the day we first met, is the most important of all. Because without this one, we would have none of the others. And I am endlessly grateful for all of those others. Because finding you, finding each other, is nothing short of miraculous. You are my everything. My all. You make me smile. You make me laugh. You make me feel. You make me think. You make me dream. You make me hope. You are my husband. My best friend. My forever man. I choose you. And this life. Our life. Forever. Always.
To the past five years.
And to the many, many more years to come.
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