2001-06-26 - 11:29 p.m.

Anniversary

Today is Lily's and my first anniversary. When we started getting serious about our relationship, we weren't sure where the actual starting point was, so we declared it to be the day talked about in this entry. You could make the argument that Aug. 2, the day Lily moved into the Hamster Palace, was our anniversary date, but we decided to stick with June 26.

Sad to say, we probably won't be doing much celebrating today. Lily is probably going to be exhausted when she come home from work, and I have things to do, too. And I already gave her a birthday/anniversary present, the Playstation.

But that's okay. We both know it's a special day, and I think we'll have the opportunity to celebrate other days.

I have to say that this year has been wonderful. I never thought I could get along so well with someone, but living with Lily has been almost effortless. This is in spite of the fact that Lily and I have some major differences.

Sure, we had some disagreements at the beginning, but we've both changed a little to accommodate living together. For example, Lily has learned to cook, which she swore she never would do, while I have become the general cleaner and housekeeper, much to my own surprise.

A while back I remember reading, in someone else's journal, a list of unhappy truths about relationships. One item particularly stuck in my mind: "Face facts: the relationship will never be better than it was in the first three months."

Well, that's just the writer's cynicism talking. I think that my relationship with Lily just gets better and better. Every day I thank the fates, or my luck, or whatever forces there are, that she came into my life. After years of terrible loneliness, I feel like I won the frigging lottery.

I remember one time, years ago, sitting behind the register at my second store, waiting for customers to come in. I was feeling sorry for myself because I didn't have a girlfriend, and I wasn't likely to get one soon. But then I got to thinking - what if I DID have a girlfriend, and she had just stepped out for a minute, say that she went to the deli next door to get a soda. I'd still be sitting here by myself, the only difference would be my attitude. Instead of self-pity, I'd have that feeling of expectation that the woman I loved could come through the door at any moment.

I then asked myself, why couldn't I have that send of hope and expectation instead of the feeling of despair? The only difference would be that instead of waiting for five minutes, I might be waiting for a month, or a year, or (as it turned out) seven years. It was just a matter of time. If it turned out that I was wrong, that I never met someone special, nothing would be lost because I'd merely used a pleasant fantasy to keep from feeling miserable, and it's always better to feel hopeful rather than sad, even if the hope was a vain one.

Occasionally in recent months, involuntarily, I'll get the opposite feeling. As I sit in the Hamster Palace late at night, working on something or other, I'll get the feeling that I really am alone, that the last twelve months were merely a lovely delusion. An unreasonable little fear will spark inside me, and I'll get up from my chair and go into the bedroom. With the faint light from the doorway spilling into the room, I see my darling Lily asleep, arms wrapped around the comforter, her dark hair spilling over the pillow. Sometimes I climb into bed next to her and put my arms around her, and kiss her bare shoulders. Half-asleep, she'll smile and snuggle against me.

I always want to remember, and I always want to grateful for the gifts she has given me.

I love you, my darling.