Happy Anniversary to My Hot Cuban Sandwich

A year ago today, I married my best friend in an epic 80s extravaganza. Below, my vows:

My boobear:

Your smile lights up a room a hundred times over. You light me up enough to last a thousand lifetimes. You are my energon cube, my all-spark.

You are the cataclysmic lightning bolt that creates Kelly Lebrock, the enchanted necklace that brings Kim Cattrall to life, the splash of water that turns Gizmo into a rambunctious Mogwai party.

You are a gift from God, the answer to a question that I never posed.

I am blessed beyond blessed that you give life to mine.

I promise to be, like Richard Marx, right here for you — right where you want me, but more important, right where you need me.

I promise that we will watch terrible, bad, stupid TV and movies until we’ve killed off most of our brain cells.

I promise that our inside jokes will keep us laughing until we’re old.

I promise to support your dreams, no matter how hazy, no matter how hard, no matter how high.

I promise to hold your hand and take every step of our crazy adventure with you.

Whether it’s navigating Jareth’s insufferable labyrinth, smuggling an illegal extraterrestrial on a bike, or quitting our high-paying, high-stress jobs so we can launch our gourmet baby food business… I will go there with you.

Teej: You are beautiful and adorable and all sorts of scrumptrulescent. You are the nicest, most kind-hearted person I know.

You are also complicated and emotional and loud.

There are so many ways that you and I are the same.

And there are many ways that you and I are different.

And it’s easy to say I love you anyway.

But I don’t. I love you because.


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