27 years ago today, Pete and I went on our first date. In honor of that occasion, I am sharing a post I originally wrote two years ago.
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On Friday, February 5, 1988, a college boy and college girl went out on their first date.
They walked (neither one had a car) to a nearby Chinese restaurant for dinner and afterward he escorted her back to the door of her dorm, said goodnight, and left. She thought he was cute and that maybe she’d go out with him again. He told her later he thought the same thing.
Twenty-five years later, they’ve been married 21 years and have two great daughters.
They’ve owned three houses together and have lived in four other places too. They built a house and the process did not lead to divorce. They didn’t even consider it. In fact, they’ve pondered taking on a project like that again.
Over the decades, they’ve figured out who does what around the house. For a while, he did almost all the cooking and she was his sous-chef. Then they had babies and she stayed home with them, so she took over the bulk of the cooking. Nowadays, they split it roughly 50/50. She’s looking forward to his eventual retirement, as she has high hopes that he’ll go back to being the primary chef and she can go back to being the assistant.
They’ve owned seven cars so far. When they go anywhere, she’s happy to let him drive because he likes to drive and she does not. They’ve driven thousands of miles on vacations over the decades, usually with him behind the wheel and her navigating from the passenger seat. They don’t often get lost, but if she’s going to lose her way, she’d prefer that it be with him. He is her compass in a lot of ways.
She’s looking forward to the next 25 years and all the adventures they will have.
And when she asks him later today if he has seen this post, he’ll make a silly face and tease her a little about getting sentimental about these things, but she doesn’t care because she knows that he loves her too.