Today marks the first anniversary of my marriage. Today is also the 51st anniversary of the BBC’s longest running science fiction series, Doctor Who. This is no coincidence.
My husband and I got together as a couple after only knowing one another for a few weeks. Two, actually. We met at the local library. He was holding a copy of Wrath of the Titans. I had just turned another copy of the same movie in. I wasn’t even supposed to be there that day. My mother had nagged me into going to prevent a late fee charge on her library card because she did not feel like going. It was cold. It was winter. And I was wearing my season 12-14 Tom Baker scarf.
When I saw the DVD he was holding, I forced myself to speak. I had, at the time, a lot of trouble talking to people so I started making myself speak a random person in public each time I went out. It got easier and easier. I said to the man who I later married “That’s a really good movie.” He says “I know.”
Later in that same trip, after I had walked off to avoid some other recent acquaintances, I found myself on the upper level looking at more DVDs. He stood at the opposite end of the section. I paid him no mind. That is, until I heard the word that would then and there bind our lives together.
His friend, whom I was later to find out was a guy called Pirate Mike, had just text messaged him. The word was spoken in the voice of a notorious villain species on Doctor Who…. the Daleks.
My face lit up. He looked up, embarrassed that his geek was showing. I was standing beside him in no time, grinning from ear to ear. I had at last in this small, podunk little town, found someone who shared my love of Doctor Who.
Two weeks later, I am not ashamed to say, he gave me a kiss. It was sloppy and timid. I went in for seconds and didn’t make it home that night. Before the night was over, we both already knew and had voice that this was it. We were it for one another.
Once the afterglow had cooled for us both to be seeing sober, we both still agreed, this was it. We’d found our match. Later that year, we decided we were going to get married anyway, so he gave me a plastic “place holder” ring until he could afford to get me a proper one that I liked. That arrived, as well as news of our new arrival, a few months later.
We set the date for November 23rd, joking that we’d always remember the Doctor Who anniversary, so we’d never forget our own.
We spent our wedding day entertaining family and friends in my mother-in-law’s home. We watched the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary Special three times in one day. And today, a year later, we’re sitting down to dinner when I get through with this post. We’re going to have a lovely stir-fry I made. Followed by cheesecake. Accompanied by a funny movie and the giggles of our nearly 9 month old.
I’d say this first year was pretty darn great.