life, the universe, and donna

Strange, I’m not much of one for anniversaries, and yet this is one that I keep remembering. And it’s not really much of an anniversary, as it’s more the anniversary of … first date? first indication of mutual interest? I dunno. I know that we watched a couple of movies at his place, and I maaaaybe threw myself at him. A bit. Sort of. Ish.

Note: If you’re looking for some entertaining phrases, google “was all over him like” — I’m particularly fond of “…and Pamela was all over him like a dog on Tommy Lee’s bone…” anyway, it made me laugh enough that I couldn’t come up with a good analogy, but be satsified in knowing that it was particularly trashy, forward, and the sort of slutty behaviour you might expect from me.

Anyway. So there we go, I just completed year two of my Interest In Nick. On to three!

Which means: I’ve officially broken my previous record for longest relationship. (I think. We didn’t really start dating until a few months later, but … eh, too complicated, screw it. I’m going with this date.) My former longest relationship lasted, I think, about 2 weeks shy of two years. I, uh, may have broken up with my ex fiance on Valentines Day, or darn close to it (albeit in 2000, followed up by a string of 5 month relationships that should probably have just been flings anyway… along with a lot of flings that were perfectly awesome as flings). Well, whatever, nobody said I was nice, but in my defense, neither was he. Regardless, that’s been my (rather pitiful) record until now, so I’m forging ahead in new territory of longevity.

Does anybody know what’s supposed to happen next? I’ve, uh, never been here before, so …

Anyway. I’m still ridiculously happy. There are the days where he drives me mad, and there are the days where I drive him mad, and the days where I’m sure we’d both happily suffocate each other with a pillow, but more important are the days where seeing him makes me grin like a fool, and the days where I race downstairs with Justice to greet him when he gets home from work, and the days where we laze about in bed and snuggle (and wrestle with the dog, who thinks the bed is her personal jungle gym), and the days where we wander around our neighbourhood arm in arm while the dog does a very good job of not trying to look like she’s going to kill other dogs…

At this point, it’s the little things. The big things, we’ve pretty much gotten out of the way. Now, it’s little stuff. When he comes home at lunch from work when I’m home sick and brings me more pepto bismal because I drank the last of it at 3am and I’m still in agony and terrified to go more than 30 yards from the toilet. Or when I bring him pre-warmed underwear, straight from the dryer. (Come to think of it, I’m not sure how well that was received, but come on — that’s fucking cute.)

It’s the fact that I don’t have to think long to find an example of the little things he does for me.

Happy 2nd-ish Anniversary, my love. Onward and upward!