It was 12 years ago on this day that we hung out, just the two of us, for the very first time. Doing the things most 18 year-olds would do for a first date: going to the mall, catching a movie (Star Wars) and going for coffee after (except, we both had tea. We share a mutual distaste for coffee.)
Looking back to 12 years ago today, I remember meeting the first boy my age that I felt really comfortable around. I remember that we didn't have that big "I knew I was going to marry you from that minute" moment. Because that's just who we are. Realistic, in my opinion. But we both knew we really liked each other after that first date. And it wasn't much longer until we realized we loved each other.
For 12 years we've been growing, changing, figuring out who we are and where we're going and how we fit together. We've shared. Laughed. Cried. Fought. And talked about our lives, our futures, our families, our goals and our values. It hasn't always been easy. And it hasn't been one of those "When Harry Met Sally" love stories that the old couples tell, about eyes-locking across the room and never looking back from that day on.
But for 12 years I've been a different person. An incredibly happy person. Secure. At peace. And I've felt things that I didn't know were possible to feel for another person outside of your family. For 12 years I've been in love. With the most incredible man.
And that's more than enough for me.
Happy Valentine's Day, hubster. Here's to many more dozens of years.