Seven years ago, on my 23rd birthday, I went out with friends. Some new, some old, some still my best friends today. I wore a big pink tiara and an Urban Outfitters t-shirt that said “Proud to Farm.”
(Clearly, I was shy and didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself).
My still fairly new boyfriend had gotten a big group of people together for dinner at OK Café, an Atlanta institution. Afterwards, we went out in Buckhead til the early morning hours.
The next day, said boyfriend made me WAKE UP AT 4AM (maybe a couple of hours after I went to sleep!) to pick me up for a surprise hot air balloon ride. I didn’t know where we were going, and am pretty sure I was contemplating whether I wanted to continue dating someone that did surprises at such godforsaken hours of the day.
It WAS however, a really fun experience. And it wasn’t even the best part of my day—the boyfriend let me go home, get back into my pajamas, and he watched movies with me all day, only leaving my condo once to go get us some BBQ and a pecan pie. Heaven. This is when I knew we were made for each other.
Or maybe I knew it later that night, when he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me (after six weeks of knowing each other). How did I know, you ask? I’m pretty sure it was from my lack of desire to run screaming from the room in a complete and total panic. Instead, all I felt was excitement.
That was 7 birthdays ago, and John and I are both a lot older (especially in his case) and (hopefully) wiser. We’ve been through so many amazing times and a few rough ones too.
And even though today is my birthday, and we’re technically supposed to be celebrating me, I always feel like celebrating us instead.
Thank you for being the best birthday present ever, babe. You were the surprise of a lifetime.
(And the rest of you are welcome to go throw up now.)
8 hours ago