Highway to Happy

This might not be the perfect moment for me to start writing this anniversary entry. Last night, we got into a pseudo fight. And rather than arguing with you, I chose to just sleep it off. I didn’t say goodnight; I gave up on it and slept.

Which is not exactly a fitting picture to stand side by side with the “mature couple” title. Oh well, I’m writing, anyway.

Today is supposed to be a celebration of the eight wonderful years we spent together. This is supposed to be the part where I write how perfect we are for each other, how easy everything is, how life’s puzzle pieces just miraculously fall into place when I’m with you. This is the day of the year I brag about having the most patient boyfriend. Sure, all those are true- on most days. But now I want to write about the other days.

You are a jealous boyfriend. Your mood changes whenever I mention about those guys we figuratively labeled as “sensitive topics”, even though there is no valid reason for them to belong in that basket. You are also quite sensitive and I get surprised when you feel offended by my innocent remarks. Plus, you are not a very good story-teller. Whenever we talk about how our day went, I would consume most of the hour telling you every detail, in chronological order, of the most boring day. You, on the other hand, will stick into general facts: who, what, where. It is not because you’re trying to cover things up, I know. Like what you say, you are just not gifted with the “skill”. But please, try getting better at it or I’ll be forced to sort of make a checklist for you.

On the other hand, I am, for lack of a better description, a hormonal monster. I shift moods in the most unpredictable way. I say “no” when I meant to say “yes” and I used the words “I’m fine” as code for “I’m devastated”. I am guilty of listening to how I interpret what you say when I’m supposed to be listening to you. And I get annoyed when you don’t look at me when we’re talking WHILE we cross the street. Imagine how unreasonable that is!

But eight years. Wow. Eight years of all that.

When novelists write about “spark” and “magic”, perhaps they don’t necessarily point to the giddy feeling which naturally comes with a young love: the sparkle of the firsts. Perhaps, they were trying to put label into the calm and silent force that pulls two people together, the everyday realization of making it work, the energy to make sacrifices and demand for them, the inner sunshine that makes everything feel better. Perhaps they were trying to illustrate that extra energy you put into a relationship that, when you think about it, comes from nowhere.

Lately I’ve been noticing the smallest of things we STILL do for each other. Suddenly, your “Are you home already?” and “How was your day?” constant texts are magnified. I am still, and will forever be, amazed by the simple clarity of how good we are to each other. I guess that’s the trick. More than the passion that is never really fully present all of the time, it is the special kind of kindness and compassion that we have for each other that keeps us from throwing away the entire relationship when things get difficult- when we are being difficult.

It has been a long time since the first times: the first “official” date, the first kiss, the first kiss and make-up. We may have long gone past the honeymoon stage, but we both know, without a trace of doubt, that the best things are yet come..

..as long as the world turns this way.

Happy 8th anniversary. I love you.