it’s my pre-anniversary and i’ll bitch if i want to

As the big 3 year anniversary approaches, that means two things—first off, Pride is upon us and secondly, the pre-anniversary is here too. What is a pre-anniversary? A pre-anniversary is this thing I made up when Jesse and I were trying to figure out what date our anniversary should be. Should it be the day that we met, in order to commemorate how special it was to meet during Pride and how it all started when I took Jesse home with me (YES, I took him home with me that very same night and if I hadn’t been a slut that night, who knows where we’d be.). Or should it be the day when Jesse and I had our first official date (which was the following Saturday), a romantic dinner cooked by the future love of my life? Because I did not feel comfortable telling our future grandkids that grandma took grandpa home for some bedtime fun the night we met, I proposed that our anniversary should be the date of our first date.

However, because of the (in my opinion) extraordinary way that Jesse and I met (come on, what straight person meets the love of his/her life at gay Pride?), I wanted to commemorate that in some way. Hence, the Pre-Anniversary was born. The actual pre-anniversary date is the 12th but every year since Jesse and I have been together, we’ve celebrated by going to Pride and watching the Parade (regardless of the date).

This year, I expected to celebrate by doing the usual—dinner and/or drinks at Dupont Italian Kitchen (the site of our infamous meeting) followed by parade-watching fun with friends. It’s almost a re-enactment (yet not exactly because even that would be a little too cheesy for me). But the point is, whether we celebrate just the two of us or with our friends, the day is about us and how that day is our day because it changed everything.

Except this year, it’s not going to feel like our day (and yes, I’m being a pouty brat about it). Apparently, Jesse’s friends have decided to throw a surprise party for one of their friends (don’t worry, she doesn’t read this blog so the surprise won’t be ruined) on Saturday. I don’t really expect Jesse’s friends to know that Saturday is the day of the Pride parade meaning it’s OUR day (Jesse and me, that is). But did they really have to time the party to coincide with the start of the parade? And does the party really have to be in the ‘burbs? They’re making it really difficult to make an appearance at both.

Obviously Jesse is torn. He feels obligated to go to his friend’s party as he wants to celebrate her birthday (which is perfectly understandable). But what he really wants to do is celebrate us and our milestone (just in case you were wondering if I was the only one who was excited about our pre-anniversary). So what do you when there are two obligations going on at the same time? Well, if you’re Jesse and me, you compromise. Boo.

So this means that we have to sacrifice our celebration for this birthday party. The revised plan is to go to the Pride parade for a while and then leave to go to the birthday party. Unfortunately, we won’t get to see the whole parade (which sucks because usually the good stuff is at the end). And we’ll miss the big surprise moment at the party (I’m not too heartbroken about that though). So we’re going to miss the good parts of both of our obligations. AND we both have to sacrifice what we want. Ugh. Whatevs.

I needed to vent, so what better venue to do so than my weekly visit with my shrink extraordinaire, Dr. W. I preempted my story by telling her, “Look, I know that it’s incredibly selfish and self-centered of me to feel this way, but…” Dr. W patiently listened to my story and when I was done, she said, “Well, it’s completely understandable that you feel that way. All you wanted to do was dedicate the day to celebrating your relationship.” She gets me. She really gets me. I told her, “Thank you so much for validating my feelings.”

It’s great that Dr. W told me that it’s ok for me to feel the way I do, but it still doesn’t make me feel any better. Oh well. Looks like I’m just going to have to make the most of it.