The New Yorker’s Valentine’s Day poems for married people were hilarious. Somewhat depressing, but hilarious.

My husband and I started dating 15years ago today. 15 years. Almost half my life. I can barely remember life before him, and it hurts to imagine life without.

I loved this quote from a NY Mag piece on romance. True romance, true love, is not simply the ability to “savor the complex flavors of expensive meals together”…although let’s be honest, that part is fun too…instead:

“You savor the repetitive, deliciously mundane rhythms of survival, and you want to keep surviving. You want to muddle through the messiness of life together as long as you possibly can. That is the summit. Savor it. That is the very definition of romance.”

Here’s to the next 15 deliciously messy years.