Today the husband turns 32. I've known him for eleven whole years. I met him in February 1997, a couple of months before he turned 21. Since we met on the Internet (which is a whole 'nother story), we really only communicated through IRC, email and the occasional phone call back then. He went out that night to party hard, and I remember being a little worried for him and a little jealous and sad that I couldn't be there. I adored him even after only knowing him for two months, but since it seems a little, I don't know, impossible to adore someone you've never even seen in the flesh, I kept that to myself. But he came back safe and sound if not a little hung-over, and we eventually moved in together, married, and have celebrated all birthdays together since (I'll have to write out the whole sordid tale later).
So 32 isn't one of those huge milestone birthdays, but it makes me think of his 21st and how long ago that was and how stupid and young we both were and how I absolutely wanted to be with him but didn't want to tell him and scare the hell out of him, because once again, two months over a computer, blah, blah, blah. I still adore him, but luckily, I don't have to be scared to tell him now.
Happy birthday. I love you bunches. Ya dork.