Ten years ago today, I walked into Blue Ribbon Bakery, on Downing Street in Manhattan, for a first date with the man who would become my husband.
I’ve always distrusted the bubbling attraction we call chemistry. Our hormones and viscera are outside our control, and are untrustworthy arbiters of mate selection. Don’t choose the man you can’t resist. Choose the man you admire.
Choose the man who’s at his best when the chips are down. Choose the man who’s been tested and who always, always, always does the right thing. Choose the man who is kind, cheerful, and curious.
If you can’t resist him, so much the better.
I chose that man, and being married to him is what makes my life here possible. And not because he’s the only one who can fix the power washer. It’s because being married to him would make any life possible. It’s put solid ground under my feet. We go out into the world each day, separately or together, knowing that the foundation that is our partnership will support whatever comes.
I’ve done some unfathomably stupid things in my day. When it really mattered, though, I chose wisely.
Happy anniversary, Kevin.