This week R. and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary.
Like most happily wedded folk, we decided to celebrate with a dinner out, sans children.
Fort Wayne has a veritable feast of restaurants in the area. We received some anniversary money from parental units to belly up to the bar. All week, as we did last year, we offered opinions on various fine eateries in the area that we have never been to. Conversations went like this, "Ooohh...I heard that Chops has the best bread in town, maybe we should go there..." and "You know, we've never been to Bleu Tomato..." and "Indian food sounds yummy, I've been craving curry..." Every year we have this conversation. And every year, we shrug our shoulders on the designated celebratory day and say, "It's up to you..." and then we stare at each other...and then one or the other of us (usually me being the more assertive one in this duo) says, "Oh, let's just got somewhere familiar, I already know what to order there...and we know it will be good." And the other one of us says, "Okay with me!" Ah, compulsives in love...where we always know what to expect and we like it that way, dammit.
Happy anniversary, my sweet R. I love that I know exactly what to expect in this, our cherished life together. May we have many more years of predictable delight together.