(I’m so tempted to write “…with your LOVER,” because that grosses us both out so much, but I’ll refrain. This is a meaningful occasion, if not a somber one.)
Answers will vary, of course. We have no control over when our loves will pinball into our lives, and I’m still not sure how much control we have even over maintaining them once they arrive.
But for the sake of argument, my answer: 32 (33 in a week).
I am 32 years old, and last night I had the pleasure of celebrating 16 years with my wife.
This lady and I can lay waste to some charcuterie and cheese.
(Remember the Charcuterie Towers from our wedding dinner? I can’t find a picture, but they were awesome.)
I liked that when the waiter brought out my (surprise customized) GIANT peanut butter cup dessert, he asked, “Uh…is it 16 or 91?”
I laughed, because it feels like both, in the best way possible.
Here’s to the next 91.