I met G for the first time on October 4, 2003. Our first date — arranged via Match.com as an early-afternoon coffee at a downtown cafe — ended 9½ hours later, when waitstaff at the nearby Thai restaurant we had relocated to, The Happy Smile, finally shooed us out the door.
Although he and I did not get married until the following December, we decided to use Oct 4, 2003 as the date engraved inside our wedding rings. This was our “true anniversary,” G and I agreed.
I sold that ring yesterday.
[Quick tip for any would-be Not-Abused Spouses: if someone ever says to you, “I feel as though we’ve been married since the first day we met,” run away. Run as far and as fast as you can.
If any part of you thinks of saying, “Aww, I feel the exact same way!” — run instead straight to the nearest therapist’s office, plonk yourself down on their couch, and refuse to leave until they’ve helped you get the inside of your head thoroughly rebuilt.]
♦ ♦ ♦
Since October 4 was also the day before my birthday, G and I used to do one big, joint celebration each year.
Which is a polite way of saying: I made extravagant events out of our anniversary — flying us to Paris (or London or Vienna), springing for dinner at local 4-star restaurants the times we stayed in the country — and he sometimes wished me “happy birthday” on the correct day. In seven years, he never got me so much as a card.
The birthday omission might have been a power play, or he perhaps never did bother to learn which day it was. I know he would check the inscribed date on his wedding band and add one, anytime he needed to remember my DOB for completing some form or other.
His birthday I never forgot — and probably never will. It’s the same day as Hitler’s. Continue reading “Reparations / Reclamations”