I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine

Yesterday marked five years since I walked down the aisle in a poofy, white dress and stood under an ivy-entwined canopy with my pale, anxious fiance. I managed to avoid getting red wine spilled all over myself when his hands trembled as he lifted the goblet to my lips for the traditional blessing. He smashed a small glass under his foot on the first try and everyone cheered. Somewhere I still have the embroidered satin cloth it was wrapped in, the first thing I owned that gave my new married name.

We spent our anniversary Sunday in Pasadena eating Chinese food while the monsterling charmed all the other patrons. He's amazing when he behaves; chatty and cheerful, pointing to all the things he can name, waving hello to the next table, grinning like the Cheshire cat. But the best thing he did for us was to sleep through "Return of the King," which I'd been dying to see. We even paused the DVD a couple times just to make sure he wasn't howling with rage that no one had come to tuck him in again (and again and again). Nothing. He was out. Cool.

When Plosh and I first met, my idea of romance was to have him come back to his apartment after working late to find my clothes strewn in a path to his bedroom. Then there was the night I spent several hours on a single massage for him. I wonder if he knew when he was tilting that goblet dangerously toward me what he was in for -- that the massages would give way to weary pats on the back, then the hasty peck on the cheek. That clothes strewn seductively would turn into piles of moldering laundry. That we would spend four hours in the dark on our anniversary and not move.

I like to think if Plosh knew this, he might still have married me.

Of course, I still believe I'll fit the negligee I wore on my wedding night just as soon as I lose those 20 lbs., which will happen any day now. Any day. I just know it.

Comments

[Faith]

That's a wonderfully sweet post, Anne. I didn't quite make it to my fifth anniversary but the next time I will. Because I want the kind of man who will love me when I'm romantic (and slutty) and when I'm tired and motherly. I'm sure it will happend one day. Congratulations on your big day!!

And didn't Return of the King totally ROCK??

[Anne]

I am so ready to move to Middle Earth. Right now. Let's go. I'll meet you in Minas Tirith by the white tree.

And of course you will find your true love. I bet he secretly reads your blog already. Wouldn't that be nice?

[andrew]

> Because I want the kind of man who will love me when I'm romantic (and slutty) and when I'm tired and motherly.

Um, what kind of man wouldn't? As long as there's a decent balance between the two states, I can't imagine a man who'd have problems with that. The only thing men can't cope with is being controlled.