In 1997 I was 16 and listening to a lot of Garbage (the band you guys) and Smashing Pumpkins, I smoked Benson and Hedges, I worked at Kmart before Kmart was cool, I wore skirts so short they’d make your eyes water; with cute t shirts and Converse lace ups and unless you counted Simon Barnacoat kissing my nose in the sixth grade I’d never kissed a boy. Of course that all changed on the evening of the 24th of May, 1997 when spouse stuck his tongue down my throat as we perched on a brick fence on Epping Rd in Lane Cove. It was, by teenage standards, a successful first date.
2 weeks earlier we’d met at a debutante ball. He was partnering a chick I worked with at Kmart. I saw him and knew. They weren’t together and so it didn’t take long for me to bust my way up into his face. And life. And heart. And him, mine. I would love to wind back through 20 years of us; to watch it unfold and fold and the creases and curves and indentations of our life and love. There have been ups and downs and this way and that. The thing is, Spouse and I have grown up as one. Everything one experiences in those crazy years, we experienced together. Rolling around on ovals dying from over consumption of vodka that we’d mixed with diet coke from Maccas. Riding around in buses, going to clubs when Sydney was still open at night. Schoolies week, going to University, jobs that sucked but paid for Vodka, learning to drive, moving out of home, travelling the world and living overseas. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done with him. And sometimes I want to kill him dead and I’m fairly sure he feels the same. I am complicated, like the da Vinci Code. I am really not easy to exist with and he has always taken everything I’ve thrown at him in his stride and managed to make me laugh in some of the hardest moments of my life. He has put up with ridiculous obsessions and fads. He has held me as I’ve thrown up so much I couldn’t walk. He has seen some of the worst parts of me as I’ve drowned in depression and loved me still. He has created life with me. We have woven and built, piece by piece a life worth living. And I know that whatever happens we’ve got each others backs. We aren’t perfect and I wouldn’t want us to be anyway. I want a relationship that’s real and open and honest and that, we have.
Our course, post children our relationship has changed. We can’t spend all day Sunday lying around like we used to after a long Saturday eve. We don’t spend hours talking over meals in restaurants that don’t fit prams or high chairs anymore and we find ourselves outnumbered by the lives we created. We can’t just pop over to LA these days and our conversations are often interrupted by the needs of a small person. But our relationship is not any less important that it was 20 years ago and it will still be just as important in another 20 years. (Unless he finally has enough and I end up under the lemon tree out the back.) We, just, belong together.
Happy Anniversary for tomorrow Babe, you are the macaroni to my cheese. Here’s to another 20 years of this mad life.