And Nobody Ever Forgot The Date

So how do you remember your wedding anniversary? The first date? The special times?


Dan and I had our first official date on Halloween 2005, a Monday. I remember it was a Monday because all the campus restaurants were closed. Dan wanted to bring me to an Indian restaurant, which was... closed.  Then we went over to the Greek diner. Closed. Pizza place? Closed. We narrowed our choices down to Subway, Wendy's, and a pasta place. We went to the pasta place since it was a little less weird than the other options. I remember eating pasta and drinking Cherry Coke. We were both incredibly awkward and the servers were wearing cat ears and fake blood, which was also incredibly awkward. We had the most awkward pseudo-kiss after our date and toddled off to our respective vehicles to drive home. Actually, they were our parents' vehicles, which continued the incredibly awkward theme. I didn't get my license until several months later, and Dan limited his driving because of a history of childhood epilepsy (no longer a problem, thankfully). It was awkward. Yeah.

We first watched Evita on February 14, 2006, on a date that will be forever known as Our Professor Was A Huge Jerk Day, not Our First Valentine's Day. That semester, Dan and I were both taking a class in Latin American history. Course requirements included that we watch Evita and write a two-page critique, but since it was a 300 level course, simply watching Evita did not constitute enough pain and suffering to fulfill the assigned Pain And Suffering Quota. Our professor told us all on February 13th that there would be a mandatory viewing of Evita on February 14 from 7 PM to 10 PM in the most uncomfortable conference room in the history building, and in case we chose to not go and instead celebrate the heathen feast, we could watch the film on our own and write a ten-page summary on Argentinian politics. Due on February 17, at the start of class. Dan and I, like the nerds we are, decided to celebrate Valentine's Day with a romantic viewing of Evita, complete with romantic fast food take-out. Nothing croons love like Madonna and populism.

Dan and I got engaged on Administrative Professionals' Day, 2010. And yes, for once Hallmark's blatant greeting card push holiday was actually quite an important date for the unprofessional among us. Dan proposed to me (awkwardly, because that's how we roll) in the college classroom where we first met. We usually spent Friday evenings together and I always met up with him on campus, so it wasn't really unusual for me to just jaunt on up to some random room in the history building. Dan got down on one knee with a ring and a single flower (Rose? Lilly? Daisy?). After I was done being surprised, I asked him where he had bought the flower. Apparently, as Dan was going up the stairs pre-proposal, one of the department secretaries was going down the stairs with a huge bouquet. He asked for a flower, because, you know, proposing and stuff. The administrative professional was very happy to give it up.

The culmination of our relationship, not surprisingly, took place the day the world was supposed to end. Just as it happens every two years or so, some evangelist dude predicted that the Rapture would occur on May 21, 2011, with fire, brimstone, and lots and lots of death (like lots of death... he estimated millions of people would kick the bucket every day until October 21, 2011, when the world was actually supposed to end). And while we were indeed supposed to get married on May 21, 2011, we weren't altogether perturbed by the prediction. This was, lest we forget, the marriage of Grace and Dan. Just one of us was probably enough to fell thousands through our combustible combination of alphabet-soup maladies and labels, but two? Mr. Camping could just be right, just maybe.

As it was, however, the date and time of the end of the world came and went sans-brimstone. I was toddling around on the dance floor in my sneakers trying to avoid a full-on dress massacre; Dan was wolfing down my untouched seafood course. We lived to tell the tale.