"Here I am, just drowning in the rain; With a ticket for a runaway train"

As we crossed over a small hill on our favorite hike, he said, “I’m taking you out to dinner for our anniversary.” Pure elation spread across my face. “Really?” I answered in honest surprise.

He is not typically aware of protocols and the significance that follow social occasions. Birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries have been sticking points. There had been times when these occasions had gone unnoticed or in true Homer Simpson fashion, he treated me to something he wanted to do and rationalized it with, “Hey, I’m paying.” Eventually, I put my figurative foot down and insisted we go to a restaurant of my choosing for my birthday.

So, when he announced and offered on his own volition to recognize the seventh anniversary of our first date, I was overjoyed. I soon let my colleagues know I’d have to skip Wednesday evening’s meeting. I was excited as if it was our first anniversary.

The excitement was short lived. The next day, he told me he rescheduled his massage appointment to the evening of our anniversary. Like a latex balloon meeting a pin prick, my excitement vanished in record speed. He repeated his solution like a mantra: he’d take me out the next night, but my excitement disappeared and was replaced with low-spirited and doubtful approval.

Our conversations between that point and our anniversary either started something like this or my replies went as such: "… oh yes, you’re not taking me out because you scheduled a massage … for one … on … our anniversary.”

It wasn’t just the anniversary disappointment that weighed on me. The weekend leading up to our anniversary had been emotionally and physically demanding. Between the last of the cleanup and reassembling the basement that flooded during the Christmas rains that challenged Noah's conundrum, and working two significant projects for two different employers, I felt as though I carried an unreasonably heavy backpack of stress. My shoulders literally ached and like a contagious disease, it spread all over my body. The day before our anniversary, I felt new lows – unwanted, unneeded, and unnecessary. I went to bed early.

The next morning, the excess weight lifted and though I was still down, I kept myself busy with work and meetings. True to his word, he went to his massage, but had been disappointed by the quality of work.

The day after our anniversary, I awaited the next blow. In the moment I walked into the house after work, I expected to find he had forgotten or chose not to follow through, dressed in his jammies and playing a video game. I braced myself for it. Instead, he had dressed up in khakis and a button-down shirt and was excited to celebrate our special date.

Delighted, I let go of my unwarranted anxieties and let him spoil me.