Today is N’s and my two year anniversary. It’s been a quieter, calmer day than last year. N surprised me at work, picking me up for lunch at an Indian buffet. (Best boyfriend for that.) When he dropped me off at work after lunch, he kissed me and said he couldn’t wait to see me when I got home. It’s nice to still feel hopeless for each other.
When I got home, we danced to the Beatles and made dinner together. It feels like making dinner is sort of center for us. Our first date, we chopped and sauteed and steamed, side by side in my little kitchen. We’ve made so many meals together, and it’s a comforting ritual, working together to make something for us both. We planned to go out for a couple of beers and a vegan cookie, but instead we sat in our non-bed bed and watched Breaking Bad. Later, we played Rummikub.
We’re in a different place than we were last year. Geographically, sure, but also personally. I don’t feel panicky about our relationship anymore. It’s peaceful and comfortable and right. N and I are a we. Decisions and questions that used to be about me are now ones that concern us.
It’s a little sad, the growing up and becoming attached and moving away or moving on. A friend of mine who recently got married sent me an e-mail saying how happy she was with her new life. It made me so sad at first, to think that saying I Do to her now husband constituted a new life. But I guess it is, and if my friends are going to grow up and apart, it’s so comforting to know that they’re doing it with a soulmate by their side.
Sometimes N and I refer to one another as partners. Sometimes only when it’s convenient—at the bank, or talking with potential landlords. But it’s also this indication that we’re in this together. I feel better going around this world with my hand in his.