The hubs and I celebrated our four year anniversary on Thursday, while still in Nevada and on the way back.  I gave him his gift as soon as we were back in Georgia.   Let me set the scene:  12:30 AM, a poorly-lit parking garage, bags askew, eyes squinty, and I fuss at him to give me a second before tossing our luggage in my trunk.  Beneath dirty riding socks and a saddle pad I need to mend, I've shoved a digital scale to replace the analog one that he's been using to measure his food for the past six months.

Romance, guys.  I've got it.

I've talked before about the Man and how amazing he is and how much I love our story.  Rather than send you delving into my old posts, I thought I'd just offer a refresher.

I think this exemplifies our relationship.

D and I met as children.  We lived three houses down from each other.  I was a chubby thing, too mature and too intelligent and too awkward.  D played sports and had friends and was even more intelligent, but not at all awkward.  Bastard.  Think:  the guy who arrives at school half an hour before everyone else, because he's just that dedicated, but no one makes fun of him, because he's just that awesome.

After a few games of Truth-or-Dare, I was smitten.  I pursued him doggedly.  All through elementary school (passing notes to his cousin to give to him), off-and-on in middle school (he used to tell me dirty words in German), and in high school, when we had our one class together.  I was a grade ahead and I remember nervously giving him my number and my hand shaking.

He never called.

11/24/1994.

Fast-forward several years.  I'm finishing college (eventually), working full-time as a data-entry temp for an aviation repair company.  I mean, mind-destroying boring work.  I pop on to facebook one day, find D and add him as a friend.  Worst case scenario?  He just says "no".

Not only did my little ginger accept my friend request, he sent me a message telling me how horrible he felt for turning me down (so much, so often) and saying that we needed to get together the next time he was in town.  Prompt me shitting myself and calling my best friend.  You know, while at work.  Almost immediately, from that first day, D and I were together.

He has always understood the importance of horses to me.  From attending IHSA shows, helping me muck stalls, involving Archie in his proposal, to the acceptance that this is a lifestyle.  He's led horses, picked hooves, groomed, blanketed, tossed feed, done middle-of-the-day emergency checks, listened to me lose my shit, helped me get up off the ground.  He's tolerated the neurotic show version of me, cheered me when I did well, bolstered me when I sucked, and held a camera in one hand and the video recorder in the other.

Engagement session. Wear a helmet.

 And on Saturday, he rode Archie for the first official time.

Pony rides.