Woke up this morning to a "Happy Anniversary" from The Husband.
"Oh yeah!" I remembered. "It's the American Anniversary."
I actually did remember. I was the one that reminded him a few days ago that it was coming up. But it was nice to wake up and see first thing in the morning reminding me of the that day EIGHT YEARS AGO that we left work early to meet at our apartment in Boston's Downtown Crossing area.
We kept our work clothes on (he: a blue dress shirt and grey pants, me: grey pants, white button-down, black sweater and red sneakers) and walked across the street to Boston's City Hall. We had an appointment to get married between two same sex couples (gay marriage having been legalized in Massachusetts 10 days earlier).
We didn't exchange rings, as we were waiting for the wedding ceremony we were having in Canada two months later. I, who sometimes likes to give the "middle finger" to conventional things, didn't want us to get married in front of a bunch of people.
"It's private. And too much pressure. We're doing it beforehand."
So The Husband agreed. And now it's been eight years.