I'd give yesterday's anniversary a 75%. That's passing, isn't it? A strong C-. A good, solid C-. There was a screaming fit, a flinging of the "bitch" word, heaving sobs, a movie, an excellent dinner, a bottle of wine, and good sex.
It's always so stupid. He did and said things he shouldn't have done and said, and he didn't do or say things he should have. I didn't let things go that I should have let go. I was hurt because I had expectations of what a first anniversary should be like.
Blah. Blah. Fucking Blah.
Same story, different day. It's only tragic because we can't get our first wedding anniversary back, and I'd wished very hard to make it nice.
The cranberry juice helps to prevent urinary tract infections, which I'm prone to catching.
At dinner, his conversation topic of choice was how he didn't understand why my ex-husband and his ex-girlfriend can't just accept how things are and be friends with us. He says that they both knew that he fucked everyone over, constantly, and they should have been prepared to be fucked over. What makes them think they're different?
In my head, I'm thinking, "What makes me think I'm different?"
I ask him, "What makes me different?"
He says, "You just are different. This is different. I've been incredibly loyal to you, except for when I was stealing your money and fucking you over because of drugs. Except for that."
I wanted to hear that I'm beautiful and wonderful and that he's so lucky that I've loved him through the hardest time in his life. I wanted to tell him that I've chosen him, and that I'd continue to choose him every day no matter how hard it might be. I wanted to tell him that he's talented, beautiful, wonderful, and that I know that we'll be happy soon. I wanted him to tell me that he knows that we'll be happy soon.
I wanted it to be different. I want to be different. I want our love and our marriage to be as special as the place where we grew from. I want it to be worth the mess we've made to get here. It has to be worth it.