A couple of days ago, I realized our anniversary was coming up and decided that since it was a pretty auspicious occasion, we should go out to dinner. The number of years we've been together isn't really that important; for me, it was the fact that our anniversary fell on a Friday that held more significance. Because the anniversary we celebrate is our first date, and our first date was on a Friday night.

So last night I met TA after my yoga class and we walked to a little French spot on Atlantic to celebrate. Sadly, the little French spot did not have champagne on the menu (Fucking hell, right? What self-respecting French restau does NOT HAVE CHAMPAGNE on the wine list?) I made do with a glass of Bordeaux. We sat outside in the cozy courtyard, under a tree festooned with little white lanterns, and it was unexpectedly romantic. Then it started to rain, and TA unfurled an umbrella and made a little canopy for us while we sat laughing at how funny it is that we've been together so long, and have been so happy. There were tons of couples on what looked like first dates, and we made up stories about them. When the rain started to come down harder, many of them decamped to the crowded bar inside. We continued to share umbrella duties, helping each other with our plates of food ("I'm glad you don't mind cutting this steak for me. Because you're going to have to do this, for real, in about 30 years when I have no teeth.") Someone offered us a bigger umbrella, and we kept eating through the downpour.

It was lovely.

By the time we'd finished our meal, the backs of our shirts were transparent from rain and TA's desert boots were sad, squeaky sponges. We laughed at the servers, who kept muttering "merde merde merde" and "putain putain putain" as they tried to keep plates dry and customers happy. The hostess came over to us as we were leaving to thank us for being troopers, and when I responded in French, she added "Vous êtes mignons, tous les deux." That made our night.