On March 12th, 2011. I married my BFF. My partner. My loverbug, Ian.
By the time we got married we had already been living together for quite some time and had already purchased our first home. So this first year of marriage was AWESOME. No weird habits to grow accustom to or little annoyances to overcome. I mean, we still have weird habits and we can be totally annoying, but we're old pro's at this thing.
So without further ado, PICTURES:
And this is where I talk about writing. Because, you see, Ian's not just married to me. He's married to my dream. And I to his. When you love someone you're married to every bit of them. Even when you're not really married because before we were ever married we were dedicated to every bit of each other and marriage didn't change a thing. Ian dreams my dreams just as big as I do, if not bigger. So when I was querying, Ian was querying. When I received rejection after rejection, so did Ian. And when things finally started happening. When the requests started piling up, when the offers started rolling in, Ian was happier for me than I was. Mainly because I was really overwhelmed and in utter shock. But also because he wants this for me, too.
So, Ian-buttface-boogerhead thank you for loving every bit of me. Including all the mean and nasty parts. And thank you for dreaming my dream just as much as I do. Olive Juice.