When you marry your best friend.
Ten years ago tomorrow I married my best friend.
The first time I saw him (we walked passed each other in town – I was wearing a Sunflower t.shirt which I still have, and he was wearing a fila t.shirt which I soon binned) I knew he was my soul mate, and after doing away with his current girlfriend (not really, they broke up without any involvement of me), we became more than friends.
On our first date I smacked his hand away from my Opal Fruits (THEY ARE NOT STARBURSTS OK), and he still stuck by me. He stuck by me when my dad died, as I grieved, and subsequently the years that followed. When he eventually caved and proposed (emailing him daily pictures of engagement rings does pay off in the end), I don’t think I even said ‘yes‘, I just screamed.
I can’t go a day without talking to him, or an hour without thinking about him. He drives me mad, everything has to have a voucher, he suddenly needs to do a job which has been waiting for three weeks right before we leave the bloody house, and he has to stop the car about 60 million times on the way to the airport just to check we have our passports. He makes me laugh, he makes me think straight, he keeps me sane, he pours me gin.
Ten years of marriage makes me feel very very old and when I look at the photos I realise just how young we were. We’ve dealt with death, moving house, job stress, two horrible children and general day-to-day first world problems. Although, I am baffled how in 10 years of marriage I am still unable to train him to stay on his side of the bed, or change the loo roll.
I feel very lucky to have met him as early in my life as I did.
Happy Anniversary Mr. Aimee, here’s to another 10 years – especially as I’ve just discovered that the modern gift suggestion is platinum.
