In 2001, I was living in the dorms at FIU and had started “talking to” a guy that lived in Orlando. We had gone to high school together (and were even in marching band together), but he was a senior when I was a freshman so our paths didn’t really cross until years later when he would take weekend trips down to south Florida to visit friends - one of whom was my best friend at the time.

At some point, we started chatting on AIM and eventually set up a date to meet without friends. He drove down to Miami, we ate dinner at Tamiami Cafe and went back to my dorm to watch Gia. Our next big date, as I like to remind him every time he makes fun of the guy, was to a Dane Cook show.  At this point, we were still pretty casual since it was a long-distance relationship but I was making plans to fix that.

I was almost done with my second year at FIU and decided it was time for a change. I started the process of transferring to UCF and on Mother’s Day 2002 I had him stop by my parents’ house on the way back up to Orlando.  When he arrived, I slipped him a piece of paper that said “I love you more than Cheerios, will you be my boyfriend?” The paper had two checkboxes; one labeled “Yes,” the other “I’m a poopie head.”  He had no choice. He checked yes and put the paper in his wallet (where it stayed until he was pick-pocketed in London years later).

That fall, I moved up to Orlando and a few months later, we drove down to South Florida for our first Thanksgiving together. We took each other to our respective parents’ houses. His was a more modest affair than the 40 people that flood my house every year.  At his mother’s house, it was me, him, his mother, grandmother, brother, and a couple of family friends. As soon as he left the table to go to the bathroom, his mother came up behind me and whispered in my ear “Graduate college and marry that man.” “Don’t worry, I’m working on it,” I told her.

My entire first semester at UCF, I treated my apartment as a glorified storage unit since I was staying at his apartment practically every night (sorry, mom!). I had to beg him to let me move in with him so we could both save on rent. He resisted for a long time, but one day I came over to his apartment and he gave me a box with a key in it.  I told my mom that I was moving in with him and she was ecstatic. “Just don’t tell your aunts about this.”

I was in no rush to get married, but I wanted to know that we were on the same page; that it was an eventuality. Over the years, we had a couple of discussions that all went the same:

him: Why bother? It’s just a piece of paper!
me: If it’s just a piece of paper, then it should be no big deal.
him: If it’s no big deal, then why bother?
me: ::call my mom crying to tell her that I was probably never getting married::

After a while, I gave up the nagging and resigned myself to the idea of a common-law marriage (not even bothering to find out if that even existed in the state of Florida).

On our fourth Thanksgiving together, I was having dessert with my cousins and he called me into the guest room. He sat me down on the bed next to him and handed me a ring box. I opened it and Cheerios went flying everywhere. “Will you marry me?”

Marriage was the furthest thing from my mind and I was beyond disoriented; so instead of an actual answer, I remember a series of “uhhhhs” escaping my mouth. I ultimately snapped out of it and said yes. Which is a good thing because he’d done the gentlemanly thing and spoken to my parents beforehand. So yeah, that would’ve been an uncomfortable conversation afterwards had I said no.

We walked out of the bedroom and my mom spotted us and “just knew.” So she gathered the family for the announcement and we took some photos.

In the following year and three months, my mom planned the most gorgeous wedding I’ve ever seen and I found the most gorgeous dress I have ever, and will ever, wear in my life.

I guess what I’m trying to say is two years ago today, I shared the most special day of my life with the people I love and the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

I love you, Adam; more than Cheerios and every other kind of cereal on this planet.