Today is my husbands 43rd birthday. I am right behind him, though. I will be 42 in August.

We started seeing each other in our late 20’s, which boggles my mind. I would have never guessed that we would end up getting married in 2009, especially since our beginnings were rocky because he was unable to commit to our relationship.

I didn’t give up though and my persistence payed off.

We have a few things in common, but mostly, we are rather opposite when it comes right down to it.

He loves death metal and I hate it. 

He sees a red door and he wants to paint it black. I see a red door and want to paint it purple. 

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Unless I am super depressed, then black is just dandy.

He adores spicy food and I cannot tolerate it.

He has a hard time understanding mental illness, which kind of sucks. I was on top of my game until 2011, so he often gets frustrated that I am not the same person anymore.

He can get really defensive and be an insensitive jerk. Likewise, I can be an overly sensitive bitch.

Now, the things that we do have in common.

We both love classic rock. He also likes The Beatles, which is a huge plus.

We are the same age, so we both remember things like School House Rock and telephones with cords.

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I got totally fucking trashed last night, kid.

We both swear fluently. 

Our senses of humor mesh well together. We often (not always) find the same things hysterical. 

Our dogs are our babies, since we decided not to have our own child together. I am mommy and he is daddy. We are kind of ridiculous when it comes to Maggie and Maya.

We have gone through all sorts of bullshit, like my mental breakdown and hospitalizations last year, but so far have been able to stay together. We continue to be able to rebuild every time our world goes to hell.

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That is not us smooching on the beach, by the way. I have no idea who this couple is. 

I don’t think that any relationship is perfect and that is why I am being honest. I’m not going to sprinkle happy dust all over and make everyone who reads this sick because we are so bloody happy, because that is the stuff of fairy tales that I no longer believe in.

I haven’t believed in that horseshit since I was 7 or something.

But, I do love him. He is a good man. Imperfect, just like me.

Happy Birthday, Tommy.

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