An anniversary missed

Halloween, 2001. I can't believe I forgot.

Women aren't supposed to forget anniversaries. But then, I do tend to think more like a man. Hey, I took the test...I have a mostly "man-brain".

Anywho, it was six years ago yesterday that I met the man. The man with whom I can carry on entire conversations without saying a word. The man who knows me and my body as well as I do...maybe better. The man who holds my hair and brings me cool, wet washcloths while I'm busy puking my guts out. The man who's first gift to me was the most beautiful bunch of purple grapes that I'd ever seen. The man who has helped me and supported me and loved me despite my various illnesses, hissy fits and general bitchiness. The man who I should have met 30 years ago.

The man who lied about his real name on that fateful Halloween, six years ago.

Guess he was worried about me being a

Fatal Attraction

. Let's face it...Glenn Close, I'm not. I've set my ferret on fire, but I'd never boil his rabbit.

I love you, honey.