Eight years.

Eight years with Kris. Longer if you count the “we’re just friends but clearly not just friends” phase.

Every year, we’ve celebrated April 24th our date-iversary.

The day that was supposed to mark “us.”

Except… one year, we looked at the calendar and realized

That wasn’t actually the day.

Turns out it was May 6th.

Minor detail. Tiny technicality. Nothing major.

So naturally, we ignored reality and kept celebrating April 24th anyway.

Because June 30th is our family-versary, the day everything officially blended, shifted, and somehow worked.

So April? That’s ours.

Even if it technically… isn’t.

And this year?

We forgot it.

Completely.

Not a “running late but still remembered” kind of forgot.

Not a “we’ll celebrate this weekend” kind of forgot.

Just… gone.

Buried somewhere between schedules, work orders, kids, chaos, and trying to remember if anyone fed the animals.

Didn’t even cross my mind.

Which, honestly?

Feels about right for us.

Our first date was at Chili’s.

Romantic, right?

In my head, it was… fine.

In Kris’s head, apparently, it was life-changing.

He tried to kiss me at the end.

I didn’t quite dodge it in time, so there was this awkward half-kiss moment…

And then this man…this grown man basically skipped to his car like he had just won the lottery.

Meanwhile, I went home thinking,

“Yeah… I’m not feeling this.”

Maybe I wasn’t over things.

Maybe I just didn’t see it yet.

Either way, I wasn’t impressed.

A couple days later, I’m out with some girls from work, drinks, appetizers, minding my business.

And I swear to you

A man Kool-Aid Man’d his way into our space.

Like full energy, breaking through the moment and a wall , just to get my number.

No joke. Straight through the wall  of napkins, silverware and my personal space and dignity.

And in that moment, I felt it.

Not flattered.

Not excited.

Just… tired.

Tired of the lines.

Tired of the performance.

Tired of trying to find something real in a world that felt like a bad script.

I didn’t want flashy.

I wanted someone who reads in bed.

Who loves food enough to go to the gym because they love food.

If you know Kris…

He is none of those things.

Which, in hindsight, might’ve been exactly the point.

So instead of entertaining Kool-Aid Man 2.0, I texted Kris.

He had his kids.

I immediately tried to back out 

“Oh never mind, we’ll talk later.”

But he asked me to come by.

Said the kids would be inside.

Cool. Fine. Casual. No pressure.

I pull up…

And there they are.

All of them.

Standing at the curb like a full-on welcome committee.

Like the Partridge Family was about to go on tour.

At that point, leaving would’ve required emotional damage I wasn’t prepared to cause.

So I got out.

We talked.

And something shifted.

Not fireworks.

Not some big romantic moment.

Just… ease.

I went home.

We kept talking.

And then we kept talking.

And then suddenly, we were talking all the time.

Every time something happened, good, bad, chaotic, I wanted to tell him.

We had a lake day with his family.

Still just friends… in my mind.

I posted pictures.

He posted pictures.

Our captions?

Not the same.

At all.

That’s how I found out…via social media that I was his girlfriend.

Which really leaves you with three options:

1. Roll with it
2. Friend-zone him properly
3. Disappear into the void

I went with sleep.

And after a night of thinking, I realized…

It didn’t scare me.

That was new.

So I stayed.

Fast forward.

June 30th somehow, we’re getting married.

And life?

Oh, life showed up.

Hard.

We’ve had the bumps.

The drama.

The parenting hell.

The parenting wins.

A car literally drove into our house.

We moved.

We built a home from the ground up.

We had a baby.

Then another baby.

We learned each other.

We fought.

We figured it out.

We kept choosing it.

And somewhere in all of that chaos…

We found a rhythm.

A real one.

Not the kind you post about.

The kind you live in.

Eight years later 

He’s still the one I go to.

The one I tell everything to.

If I can remember what I was feeling by the time I finally sit down.

I don’t work out as much as I used to.

I still love a good book.

And now?

Because of his support…

I write them.

Turns out, everything I thought I wanted

Wasn’t what I needed.

And the one person who didn’t check a single box?

Was the one who stayed.

So yeah…

I forgot our fake anniversary.

And our real one.

Actually…wait.

I think today is May 6th.

So technically…

I didn’t forget.

Take that, Kris. You can’t even be mad now.

I may not remember the dates.

But I will always remember this:

Coming home to you

is exactly where I was meant to be.

So happy… whatever-the-hell-today-is.

And with any luck 

I’ll remember June 30th.

No promises.