Today isn’t that special a day to most of you. And honestly, it had never been that special to me. There isn’t a national holiday or even a bank holiday. There’s no big game or special parade. No giant sales and not even any free samples that I’ve seen.But today is the anniversary of the day I pulled my head out of my nether regions and noticed that I’d met the love of my life. I call her “Beautiful” when I’m saying goodnight, “Honeybun” when I’m talking about her on the podcast, but I just call her Kelly most of the time.
We met on Cinco de Mayo, two years ago. She was fun and funny and fit in with my friends, but I was a confirmed bachelor and I would have none of that relationship nonsense.
Turns out, Kelly is a lot like her native New Orleans. If you find you like the city, you may realize you love the city. And if you love it, it’s hard to live without it. That all goes doubly for my Beautiful.
So, on the anniversary of the day I finally asked her to be my girlfriend, I say thank you, Kelly. For being patient, when I was being petulant. For being strong when I’m silly and being silly when I’m sad.
Thanks for taking me on with my flaws and my fantasies and my two kids, who are not feather-weights themselves when it comes to neediness.
Most of all, thanks for agreeing to start this whole thing with me. When both of us have been here and failed before. When either of us would be forgiven for coiling up and forgetting about that relationship nonsense. When lots of people would tell you you’ve got better options with less baggage than I.
Thanks for being my girlfriend. And becoming my roommate. And my Love. And my Honeybun. But most of all, thanks for being my Beautiful.