Ten

Today, depending on how we choose to calculate these things, was my tenth anniversary with Ian. The tenth anniversary of that encounter in the swimming pool.

The early stages of our relationship were pretty complicated -- actually, it's been pretty complicated most of the way along -- and there are several occasions we could choose as the official starting point, but this is the one that makes sense, the one we've agreed on, as much as we agree on anything.

November 27, 1994 - November 27, 2004.

Ten years later, and it's anniversary time. Ian recovering from a nasty cold, and me in the early stages of it, or of something similar. I bought him flowers, and a couple of almondines, his favourite cakes. A DVD of a comedy show he wanted to see again, which we watched most of together.

Then we went out to dinner.

At first, it was great, just right. Wine, food, good company. It didn't stay that way.

How much of myself is left, what more do I have to give up? There is a great deal that is wonderful about us, that is remarkable, but there is only so much I can do. I am already not this person, but still he isn't satisfied.

In all likelihood, it will work out. We've gotten through so much, it's hard to imagine we won't continue to do so. But I've given as much ground as I can. There's nowhere left for me to go.

What do you want from me?

I don't believe it's going to end here.

But if it does, we had a good innings.
Posted by matt at November 27, 2004 11:08 PM