Perseverance

I'm sure I've posted before about the first time Sam turned me down.  We were in London on two different study abroad programs, and had met through mutual friends.  I thought he was the dreamiest of dreamboats.  We'd bonded over our mutual love of Faulkner.  I'd drawn him a map of Mississippi on a cocktail napkin.  I'd given him my very best eyelash batting longing looks.  As far as I could tell, it was ON.  So one night when we all went to indie rock night at the bar around the corner, I asked him to dance... and he said no. 

"It's not that I don't want to dance with YOU," he said.  "I don't want to dance with anyone."  And I knew he wasn't talking about a dance, but was trying to let me down gently.  I played it cool.  I knew I'd get him to dance with me eventually.

And eventually I did... I just had to let him pick the song. 

Happy anniversary, Sam.  There's so much more to you, and to me, and to us, than I ever could have imagined on the dance floor of that dingy basement bar a decade ago.  I love you.