Five years ago I met this twenty-five year old hot boy in Florence, Italy. Two years ago today I married him, the love of my life, the fuzziest of fuzzies, the yin to my yang, and the classy latin accent to my failing eloquence. These two years have seemed like a million..Wait, no, let’s start again. These two years have went by so fast that it’s hard to believe that we’ve already been married for two years. I know what all of you are thinking who have been married for like 20, you’re thinking, “two years isn’t shit, girl!” And you’re right, in the scheme of things it’s not that long but it’s about celebrating the little steps, right? So let’s celebrate! Two years down and sixty+ more to go (depending on whether or not he starts to help around the house more, otherwise it could be any day now). Everyone help me out with a big, “Happy Anniversary Francesco!” And give me whatever marriage/relationship advice you’ve got in the comments below! Who knows, you could probably save my marriage one day.
And now, the sappy part, guys. I really lucked out with Francesco. He really is my best friend, and is such an incredibly tolerant partner. He’s a great husband, despite his inability to clean up his nail clippings and fallen chest hair that peppers our home, and he somehow always puts family first. He effortlessly puts our relationship before his own needs or his pride, puts our dog before himself, and puts me on a pedistool that I totally don’t deserve to be on (and after wine it’s just plain dangerous). I know I tease him a lot because I suck at feelings but he’s a badass and I love him. As part of his anniversary card, here is a digital promise to keep trying to be better for him:
Thank you for putting up with me. Remember today when you were all, “I’m so happy I married you two years ago,” and I screamed, “HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT ON THE WALL!?” Then you ran away and left me to die. It’s a good thing that I was just trying to scare you because that would have been an embarrassing thing to explain to your friends, that I died because you abandoned me. Remember when you were being romantic and I tried to scare you? And then you were scared? Either we’re both smoking crack or we were made for each other. And also…thank you for laughing when I ruin romantic moments. Thanks for being supportive and always being there for me. Thank you for being exactly the opposite of me in every way so that I could find balance. Thank you for only showing mild concern when I have long conversations with myself in the kitchen, for kissing me every morning before you leave the house, and for being completely and totally immune to my sense of humor that people either get or are totally terrified of. Thanks for not finding me repulsive. Oh, and thank you for letting me buy whatever I want this week in preparation for our trip to NY. And thanks for finally letting me have Dwayne*. I’ll try to be a better wife this year. I’ll be less naggy, unless you force me to do it then my promise is null. I promise to cook more and take more interest in Italian politics because I know it’s your favorite. I promise to be less neurotic and to work on saying normal people things around your friends and family. Except for Fusco and Leo because they don’t care and have grown immune to my blabbering. I promise to always try, never give up, and never become “too comfortable.” I’ll do my best to love you, forever, until my brain gives out and I forget who you are, or until I die. I hope I die first because I can’t imagine not knowing you. Plus, I feel like I’d also quickly forget about pants and get arrested for indecent exposure.
Til death. Forever, and ever, AND EVER. -ME
*Now you have to let me because everyone read my gracious acceptance letter.