It was our 21-year anniversary last week.
We didn’t forget the date exactly but the old man was away at some conference pretending to be a very important international executive while I was working my butt off from Dysfunctionality House.
So aside from a couple of pathetically grovelling texts to make sure that the other didn’t think that the other had forgotten, the day kind of passed us by.
Which was actually ok. I mean we know we love each other and I’ve finally grown up and realised that ‘knowing’ can be enough; with unlimited access to the Mastercard, OBVIOUSLY.
It gets harder and harder to give our relationship the time it needs these days, with the teens around. In the old days, the kids were swaddled so tightly they couldn’t move in bed by 7pm so at least we found a few precious hours of ‘alone’ time. These days, NC, Kurt, their friends and partners are a permanent fixture in the apartment and would be horrified at the suggestion of anything more than light-hearted animosity between us; which is what they are used to.
On Saturday night we decided to go out for a meal to celebrate, nevertheless. Nothing fancy, just our favourite Japanese restaurant that does the wickedest burn-the-roof-off-your mouth Wasabi, melt-in-your mouth Sashimi, loadsacalories Tempura, orgasmic Wagu Beef and a comforting Teriyaki. I always follow the main with this wierd tea ice cream they serve because I can pretend it is a healthy dessert and I alos love watching the old man’s face turn a similar shade of green because he finds the whole concept of tea-flavoured ice-cream strangely revolting.
It’s no Cookies and Cream. And neither is marriage sometimes.
Luckily, the one thing the old man and I have always done well together is DRINKING. And when you’re tired and eating great food and have an excuse to celebrate, wine slips down the throat very easily and relaxes all those tensions that have been steadily building up over the last 21 years.
We were home by 8.30pm, which was far too early to end our private party so we foolishly opened a bottle of red this time, grabbed the furry rugs and the biggest bar of chocolate I’ve ever seen in my life and sat out on our balcony to put the world to rights. We spent those several drunken hours testing our eyesight by seeing who could read the furthest illuminated building signs and counting the number of ferries that came in and out of the harbour. We even discussed the carbon tax quite seriously at one point and then took our environmental conscience one step further and counted how many office blocks kept their lights on over the weekend.
A lot, it seems!
I don’t know how many times I mentioned how much I love living in the city. I can’t remember how many times the old man tried to bring Tiger Woods and the British Open into the conversation.
I think we even had a kiss at some point and tongues might have connected so we must have been very, very drunk to breach the no physical contact rule except on birthdays and Christmas. Well, it was our anniversary, I suppose.
It was one of those spontaneous nights where nothing was really planned but the world stood still for a short moment to remind us of what we have.
How do you keep your relationship alive?