(no subject)

Nineteen years ago yesterday I turned to the person with whom I'd just had sex for the first time and asked him what he was looking for in a relationship. He reacted as if I had just proposed marriage when I was just trying to figure out if we how compatible we were. I fully expected him to be the first in a long line of college boyfriends that I would cheerfully leave behind when I graduated.

This May we'll have been married eleven years. I've spent just shy of half my life with him and I'm not even close to getting tired of it.