11 years and a day

Yesterday was my 11th-year anniversary of being an official couple with the husband. I only found out when he said “Happy 11th anniversary, babe!” while we were in the car yesterday. I stared at him blankly for several seconds before it clicked in my head and then I felt bad that it took me so long to piece it together.

“Oh!! What date is it today?” I was going for the whole “I couldn’t possibly forget such an important event, I just lost track of the date” defense but I could tell that he wasn’t buying it.

“It’s the twelfth. Of November. The date we got together,” he replied.

I had to switch strategies. I decided to try the Confundus Charm. “Isn’t our anniversary on the 15th? I’m quite certain it’s on 15 November.”

He gave me the look. The look that said “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Wow I can’t believe it’s been 11 years! That’s like more than a decade!” This was my final strategy – refocus the attention to a somewhat related triviality.

He gave me the other look. The look that said “I see what you’re doing here and it’s really not working.”

“Happy anniversary, baby. Thanks for the last 11 years,” I said with a smile.

And it’s true. After 11 years, I am thankful. To have a guy who bothers to remember the small things about our relationship because it’s the small things that matter. A guy who knows that that this is the sort of thing my brain has difficulty remembering but is ok with it. A guy who sees my moves from a mile off and is still willing to go through the whole charade so I don’t feel so bad.