Happy day, Patrick!

I have the coolest husband, ever. And on this, his namesake day, I thought I’d tell everybody who stumbles across this blog about it. We met about five years ago, in between years of college, when I was his supervisor at a summer job. I was naughty and assigned him to every job that I knew I’d be working, because I had a crush on him. Early on in our courtship he asked me if I had ever experienced “the lion”. I blushed profusely, as I tend to do, and soon came to realize that Patrick is a crazy perverted bastard.

But that’s part of the appeal.

We broke up a couple of times along the way, partly due to the fact that we are two of the most stubborn people I know. But the ego has a way of deteriorating with time (if you work at it) so we always ended up gratefully back together.

Then one spring day, as we were taking a walk through our neighborhood, we decided to get married. So we did, last October. And our relationship keeps getting stronger, deeper, more fluid with every passing day. (Sorry about the sap, everyone, but we wouldn’t have Maple Syrup were it not for the sap!) Sometimes he becomes an extension of my consciousness and I his, and I can’t remember if we’re husband and wife or brother and sister or if each one is each…

Patrick is the only man I’ve ever known who has encouraged me to shave my head bald. He’s the only guy I’ve met who is a better feminist than I am. Patrick wishes I wouldn’t wear makeup. He thinks my biceps are sexy. He boils water for me to fill up our giant bathtub when I take an hour-long bath and the water gets cold. He doesn’t accept “no” or “I can’t” and he’s the only person who has consistently been able to challenge my notions of right and wrong without being condescending or self-righteous.

So, Patrick, happy day, I am so lucky to be married to you!