Today marks the sixteenth anniversary of my first date with my husband. He made me spaghetti. Out of a package, it's true, but it was good, it was surprising, it was served on actual china in a dining room free of his four roommates, and it was prescient. For sixteen years, he's been good, surprising, considerate, and mindful of my sensibilities. He's given me - no lie - the best years of his life so far, three terrific kids, a huge amount of patience, and the honor of his trust. I've tried to give him the same - not as successfully, I'm sure, since I'm patience-challenged, but the intent has always been there.
Husband, it's been a good sixteen years. I hope you're up for another round.