I’m
writing this in retrospect because it’s funnier now than it was then. This is
the story of the worst anniversary ever. Ever. This year was our five-year
anniversary and I wanted to make it special. We’ve never celebrated with
presents or anything too thought out, but I felt like this was special to have
been married five whole years. I planned for a couple of weeks in advance to
make the day unforgettable and I had a vision in my head of how awesome the day
would be. I’m telling this story not to make anyone (Johnny) feel bad, but
really, because how could I forget such an awful day? I’m already looking back
on it and laughing. But it wasn’t funny at the time. At all.
A
couple of days before the big day I gave Johnny the heads up that I had bought
him some presents and was planning something fun for our anniversary. I really
wanted it all to be a surprise but I thought it would be unfair if he didn’t
know what I was doing and was caught unaware, didn’t do anything, and felt bad.
So the big day comes and the first thing I do in the morning is pull out a
present: the most handsome shirt and tie that took me days of shopping to find
the perfect combo. They were pretty sweet. I also wrote him a long love letter,
and inside the card were two tickets to a Bees baseball game for that night.
There were even going to be fireworks. I then sit and kind of wait for my
present to an awkward silence. He hadn’t gotten me anything. Oh, well, I brush
it off.
We
decide to head to SLC to the farmer’s market and then over to Capitol Theatre
where I was hoping (more like praying) to score some standby Wicked tickets to
the afternoon performance. I had already tried four other times and failed, so I knew the odds were in my favor
and today would be the day! Wrong. The fifth time is not the charm. Oh, well
again.
At
this point I’m kind of waiting for Johnny to surprise me with
something—anything! He says he had wanted to go on a picnic to the meadow where
we went on our first date, but the baseball game conflicted. Okay, that was
cute. But is it horrible of me to have felt a slight pang of disappointment? He
hadn’t actually done anything at all; he had thought up a quick plan the day
before of something we could do. I felt like he might have tried a little
harder? I don’t know, I think I’m being too critical.
Now
it’s evening and we haven’t done anything all day, but we’re about to head to
the Bees game for hotdogs, baseball pants, and fireworks. I mention to Johnny
there’s actually one more lottery for Wicked tickets and it’s right by the
baseball stadium so we decide to try for a sixth
time before the game. Now, I need to emphasize how badly I wanted to see this
musical. I have known all the music for years, read the book before it was even
and show, and am the only person in my family who hasn’t seen it yet (because
tickets are $250!!!). This is my last chance and I have to win; it would make
up for everything else that hasn’t happened today!
I
didn’t win.
Oh,
well (again). We still have tickets to the game and the night is young. Johnny
drops me off so he can park the car and I go to the ticket counter to get our
seats where the employee tells me they’re sold out. “That’s okay,” I say, “We
have tickets, we just need our seat numbers.” What I was not told when I bought
my tickets at work (for $20!) was that they only worked if there were seats
left. And there are not. So my $20 bought absolutely nothing. I walk back to
the car, sit down, and cry the hardest, saddest cry I’ve had in a long time.
This was just the icing on top of the worst anniversary ever. No presents, no
Wicked, no surprises, and now no baseball game. I cry the whole way home and
Johnny says nothing. I think he was too scared.
But,
oh, the night is not over. We attempt one very last time to salvage the day and
grab takeout and head over to the park to have a picnic. But it turns out I’m allergic
to something we ate so we have to go home, I pop a Benadryl, and am knocked out
by 9 o’clock. And that’s how our five-year anniversary ended.
See?!
It’s so bad it’s funny. Totally not funny then, or even a week afterwards, but
kind of funny now. Johnny, if you’re reading this, you better start planning
our six-year anniversary right now, and it better rock (I love you).
