There’s hardly any itch at all

The thing that the Mayans didn’t realize about this whole end of the world thing tomorrow is that today is my and His Nibs’ seven-year anniversary (N.B. We’ve been together for more like 12 years). So I decree that it is impossible for the world to end without my getting the chance to wear my anniversary gift *and* to show it off.

No, I won’t tell you what it is. But I will say that it’s awesome. And exactly what I wanted.

I am very, very happy to be married. Especially to His Nibs.

I’m not going to lie to you. His Nibs and I fight. Sometimes we don’t like each other very much. From time to time, we can’t even stand to be around one another. But here’s the thing about His Nibs: I know he always…ALWAYS has my back. Always.

You know that I’m a pretty stubborn, independent person. I’m not easy to get along with much of the time. There aren’t very many times when I ask for help.

A friend of mine – a good friend of mine – has an anxiety disorder. Possibly more than one. To be clear, possibly more than one friend has an anxiety disorder and at least one friend has possibly more than one anxiety disorder. There is even a possibility that more than one friend has more than one anxiety disorder. I have had minor anxiety from time to time, but nothing debilitating. Nothing that I couldn’t just kind of walk away from, and realise that what I was experiencing was not rational.

But when I had a major anxiety attack, I was alone. In a hotel. And I quite literally thought I was dying. His Nibs came back to the room, and took one look at me and knew something was Very Wrong. He sat on the bed with me and held my hand and listened to me rattle on about how fucking weird all the things were that were going on with my body. He was patient and calm, and I knew he was concerned about me.

I got over that panic attack, and a week later had another, much more minor one. His Nibs took the morning off work, time he couldn’t afford, to make sure I was okay. It was so good just to have him sit beside me and listen to me panic.

You hear so often that people say “I married my best friend”, and it’s all sappy and stupid and we don’t really believe it when we hear it. Personally, I think it *is* a load of crap. His Nibs certainly didn’t start out as my best friend. And now, he’s not my best friend. I have lots of best friends. They are people I am comfortable with (and you know who you are. I love you!); people I don’t have secrets from. They’re people who will help if they can, and who love me too. They are brilliant men and women with wicked intellects and good hearts. We share a sense of humour, we share stories, and we share history. There have been many close friends in my life who’ve helped shape who I am, and there will be more to help shape my life to come. And I love every one of you.

His Nibs is more than a best friend. He’s more than a lover. He is the one person on the *entire planet*…probably in the entire universe, who can hold me. His idiosyncrasies complement my idiosyncrasies. He is patient and thoughtful where I am impulsive. He is sanguine where I am volatile. He likes vacuuming.

Here’s part of your Anniversary gift, my love. I, um, apologise that it sucks. I am NOT good at sonnets. I’ve been working on this for a ridiculous amount of time, and sadly, I don’t think it’s going to get any better.

I love your face, becoming so weathered
by laughter etched and by small worries marked,
Your eyes that slowly grow creased still spark;
these lines our lives together will measure.

You are the rock to which I am tethered;
would I desire your lineaments unmarked?
Erasing stories told by time’s full arc?
Let us instead from Cronos draw censure.

We’ll gauge time’s lapse with passion, wrinkles, tears
and smiles; small battles lost, large battles won;
I love you most when words all lay undone.
All scattered and tousled, thoroughly clear.

I close my eyes, see you in summer sun,
Each line, each wrinkle in memory seared

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

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i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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