Ten. Frickin. Years.

Today is the 10th anniversary of Chris' and my first date, and even though we have a "new" anniversary (the actual wedding), I'm not willing to give up on this one. I mean, I've now spent a decade with this man, and I want that recognized, dammit...

Seriously, I can't believe it's been ten years. Sometimes I feel like the time has just flown by, and others I feel like we've been together even longer. At any rate, this momentous date is causing me to reflect on the past just a tad... For those of you who already know the story of our first date, you can stop reading now. For those who don't know it, enjoy.

July 20, 1996

Chris had asked me out under duress from my then-employer (a mutual friend who kept trying to set us up), so I'm not sure either of us had terribly high hopes for the evening. I'd been in band rehearsals all day and was exhausted, so when Chris suggested (over the phone) that we go to a sushi restaurant, the fact that I'd never eaten sushi didn't cross my mind. I said, "Sure, sounds fine!" Then I hung up and though, "Oh, lordy, I hope they have something that's not raw..."

We went to Obi in Old Town, after an aborted attempt to eat at a place I'm still not convinced does anything but line people up outside its doors for hours on end (Saburo in Sellwood), and I did end up ordering teriyaki chicken... But my lone bravery gene made a rare appearance that night, and I did try Chris' sushi. And it wasn't bad. I've since come to love it, too...

The highlight of dinner, however, was when Chris popped a shrimp's head in his mouth, facing out, and moved it around with his tongue while saying (in a high-pitched Mr. Bill voice), "Oh nooo! Don't eat me! Nooo!" I swear, I just looked at this loony man sitting next to me and thought, "What in the hell am I doing here?!?" But he made me laugh, and that obviously counts for something.

After sushi we went for coffee up on Hawthorne, and when the guy behind the counter asked for Chris' name, he said, "Fidel," without skipping a beat. My double-take gave him away, unfortunately, and he had to explain that was his coffee name. He liked watching peoples' reactions when the barista yelled, "Fidel!" across a crowded cafe. I think he and the barista came up with a coffee name for me that night, but I don't remember it for sure - it might have been Bianca. It doesn't matter, because I never used it after that.

After coffee, he drove me home. And even after the whole shrimp's head thing and the Fidel thing, I still went out with him again. And again. And so on. Until we've arrived at what Chris has taken to (lovingly?) calling the Ten Frickin' Year Anniversary.

So, Happy TFY Anniversary, hon.