One year ago today, Jonathan asked me if I wanted to go out for cheese fondue, and then asked me if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Both were easy answers.
(The second was made easier by the fact that I was first happily filled with cheese fondue. Although my answer would have been the same without it.)
(Probably.)
In case you’ve forgotten, here’s our story:
Something old, something new: a bi-religious love story.
We’re celebrating our engagement-versary separately, from war zones in Afghanistan to cubicle zones in D.C., but I’m confident that, if there is anything we can get through, it’s this last stretch of distance.
I love you, Jonathan. Even when you’re carrying a gun.
I can’t believe it’s been a year since last year.
According to our NYE plans, it’s actually been negative two years since last year.
Wait, negative 3 years. I forgot to count that NYE when I puked on my cab driver. Because I’m TRYING to forget that NYE when I puked on my cab driver.
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