Today, I have been married for 7 years. No itching.

I met B at Mark’s New Year’s Eve party on December 31, 2001. We had our first date on January 24, 2002, at the now defunct Portofino, where we would have our wedding rehearsal dinner. On that date, I wore leather pants (the magical shiny ones) and a fauxnytail, and most of what I remember was the sound my leather pants made as I slid across his leather car seats, our dinner conversation (which sold me on this guy), and worrying that he was going to realize he had a handful of fake hair when he kissed me goodnight.

A year and five months later (after a very short breakup rooted in my religious quasi-zealotry) we were sitting in the swimming pool at my apartment complex, talking about renewing my lease. Should I renew my lease for another six months, or a year? Would Karen even want to live with me another six months, after I had nearly killed her with pine tree allergens, set the kitchen on fire a couple of times, and accidentally trapped her in her bedroom for hours while B and I made up? How much longer would I need a roommate anyway?

My lease was up at the end of August. I mentioned that our upcoming two year anniversary fell on a Saturday, and that might make it easy to remember any other anniversary dates. B agreed. I thought I had a few options: Renew for a year, renew for six months, not renew and move home for a few months? B liked the last one. And that’s how we decided to get married. B officially proposed with a ring on October 1, 2003, on the playground of his elementary school.

I don’t remember a whole lot from our wedding day, other than that my face hurt from smiling, my feet hurt from standing, and I laughed a lot. I laughed walking down the aisle because my grandmother was clawing at me from the pew. I laughed at the altar because my pastor was cracking inside jokes. I laughed during communion because the fabric of my dress made me keep sliding off the kneeler, and I was having to cling to the rail for dear life. I laughed during our ring exchange because B had drawn an X on the ring finger of his left hand, so I wouldn’t miss. I laughed because we got the wrong cake. I laughed because a flower kept popping out of my bouquet with this great, arcing, BOINK! I laughed because it was raining and the guys couldn’t desecrate the car the way they wanted. I laughed and laughed and laughed. And I’m still laughing.

I married the only man who has never bored me, and the only man I ever dated who I can happily admit is smarter than I am. I like him. He is just right for me.