We’ve come a long way in the last twelve months. For example, I am now comfortable referring to Matt as “my husband.” A year ago those words felt strange coming out of my mouth, which is why when I went to the doctor a few weeks after returning from our honeymoon and she asked me if anyone close to me was also sick, I said, “Well, no, not my…household member.”
Yes. Because that’s so much less awkward than saying husband.
On Saturday morning we woke up bright and early to take Matt’s car to the mechanic for an inspection. It was ready a few hours later, so we went back to the garage to pick it up. I stopped at my parents’ on my way home to pick up the top layer of our wedding cake, and when I got back to the apartment Matt still wasn't home.
He walked in a few minutes later with two sandwiches from Heavenly Ham, and M&M luggage tags.
Because of course.
We had 7:00 dinner reservations, so we got all dressed up and then utilized the self-timer feature on the phone that I have just discovered because apparently, I am behind the times.
We were eating dinner at a Brazilian steakhouse. I’d never been before, but Matt had been to a similar restaurant in the city for a work function and knew the ropes. The first course was buffet style, and Matt cautioned me to save plenty of room for the meat that is served at the table, but a girl can’t resist potatoes and rice and sauteed mushrooms and tortellini.
In a moment of bravery I also put a quail egg on my plate which was a decision I’d come to regret.
If I never eat a quail egg again, it will be too soon.
We went back to our table, and turned our cards to green, signifying the waiters walking around with gigantic meat skewers (I wish there was a more eloquent way to describe them) that we were ready for them. There were 21 types of meat and over the course of the next few hours I bet we tried at least 15 of them. After filet mignon and sirloin and bacon wrapped chicken and parmesan pork and salmon and leg of lamb I turned my card over from green to red because I’d eaten so much I could hardly breathe.
Matt kept his card turned to green, but gave himself periodic pep talks all revolving around the same theme of “pace yourself Matt, just slow down and enjoy.”
When Matt finally turned his card to red, we talked about how delicious everything was and how we’d absolutely, positively never been fuller in our entire lives than we were at that moment.
And then our waiter came back and asked if we needed anything and Matt promptly requested another round of drinks and the dessert menu.
I've never loved him more.
When we got home, we decided to keep the celebration going and exchange presents. Matt told me that my present was so big he had to keep it in the downstairs storage unit, so while he carried it up I waited in the bedroom absolutely convinced I was going to walk into the living room and see a reclining chair.
I have no explanation.
I don’t even want a reclining chair.
As it turns out, it was a desk.
Specifically, a "premium writing desk" so that I can be a premium writer.
I have been talking about getting a desk since we got married. We didn't really have room in our first place, and since we moved here I have gone desk shopping about twelve times but haven’t purchased anything.
However, that doesn't stop me from frequently proclaiming "I WISH I HAD A DESK. I JUST LOVE A DESK. MY LIFE IS NOT COMPLETE WITHOUT A DESK."
A few weeks ago I told Matt that the traditional first year gift was paper. And he said, “Well, okay, but do I look like a traditional type of guy to you?”
I am so glad Matt broke the tradition.
Here's to year two.