By the Numbers...

Ten years ago, hubby and I were thrown together. Not because we were in all the same classes at a new school together. Our roommates, despite being grown adults and although they wanted to be together, were seemingly incapable of going anywhere without us. Through a series of forced interactions at all hours of the day and night, we quickly became good friends. Of course, the rest of the world could see that we were crazy about each other, long before we were able to admit it to each other. Or to ourselves…

Nine years ago, we decided to give it a shot. The decision could have been fueled by the after-effects of far too many scorpion bowls. Maybe the liquor quieted the fears that cautioned us about risking the friendship…or maybe our hearts finally spoke louder than our heads.

Eight years ago we moved in together. I still don't think he really meant it. My apartment sucked and I think he got sick of hearing me complain about it. Power blew every single time I used the microwave. The crazy bastard downstairs who freaked out on me for parking in "his spot" when he had no car. After one particularly long tirade, he said, "What do you want? Do you just want to move in here?" I blurted out yes before he could change his mind...

Seven years ago, our frantic search to find jobs after law school led to us covering the east coast in resumes. Somehow, we managed to land jobs not just in the same state, but in the same courthouse.

Six years ago, before we started our new jobs after the clerkship, he proposed. It was right after I convinced myself that he would NEVER pop the question. It was also one of the few times in my life where I was truly speechless.

And on July 2 five years ago, we were finally married.

Happy anniversary, my love.