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Originally Posted by dar512
Mrs. dar and I have been together 23.5 years (22 years of marriage plus 1.5 years dating). Seems like just yesterday...
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Awww, I can't wait to be you guys.
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Originally Posted by glatt
So she eventually sort of dropped her original middle name and now follows the traditional First name, Maiden Name, Last Name format.
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Originally Posted by monster
I'd gladly lose my given middle name, though -it's Jane.
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I took my husband's last name and changed my middle name to my maiden name. One reason is that my father has no brothers and no sons, so we're the end of the line who'll carry his name. The other is that, like you, I hated my given middle name; Doreen. Don't get me wrong, I actually love that name as a first name, but when combined with Jill it just sounds so hickish. I've especially hated it since learning that my middle name was originally supposed to be Dana, which I think is quite beautiful. But when my mother was practicing the name on me while still in the hospital, her roommate mistook 'Jill Dana' for 'Jill, dammit', which prompted choosing a different 'D' name. Grumble.
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Originally Posted by fargon
We have been together for 7 years of pure bliss. our secret is we never stay mad at one another. And we make each other laugh.
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We just passed the 8 year mark for being "together" and are fast approaching (next month) our 7 year wedding anniversary, and I, too, still feel pure bliss in our happiness together.
True story. . . Way back in the 1930s, my grandmother was a divorced woman (from a physically abusive husband - Go Baba for having brass balls back when women didn't leave their husbands!), caring for her diabetic mother and a 5 year old daughter. Her brother had recently passed away and a friend wanted to fix her up on a blind date with a man whose mother had also recently died, thinking that at least they'd have something in common. My Baba refused. Not interested. Death's not a thing to have in common that would forge a strong bond. Too many responsibilities to go about dating.
The friend decided to ignore my Baba's concerns and gave the man her number anyway. He phoned and invited her to dinner. She refused. He pleaded that she had to eat anyway, why not get a free meal. She relented.
On that first date he was so smitten that he offered to "put her up in an apartment" and keep a key for himself. She told him he'd have to buy the cow if he wanted the free milk, but she was not interested in being married, so go away and leave her alone.
He did leave, as he was a "ladies ready-to-wear" traveling salesman. On his first day away he sent chocolates. On the second day, flowers. On the third, stockings (difficult to get during the war). He cut his trip short to come home to convince her to marry him. He said he'd take care of her mother and adopt her daughter as his own. Her mother said she'd be a fool to refuse.
He made her a deal; marry him on a 30-day trial basis, and if he hadn't made her happy in 30 days, she could have an annulment and he would leave her alone forever. She accepted. On the eve of their first day of marriage, he pulled out a homemade calendar with 30 days on it, and asked, "Did I make you happy today, dear?" She said that yes, he had. So he put a big X on the first day. Every night for the next 29 days he would ask if he'd made her happy that day. He always had. At the end of 30 days she was completely in love with him, and he spent the next 25 years making sure she was happy every, single day until the day he died.
On the eve of my wedding day, May 26th, 2002, as we were climbing in to bed for the night, my new husband turned to me and said, "Did I make you happy today, dear?"
No, he did not know that story at the time.
For seven years now, hardly a day goes by that he doesn't reaffirm that he still makes me happy, which of course he does. I feel very blessed indeed.
Rest in peace, Baba and Poppy. You set a fine example.