Mr B and I just celebrated our 18-month* 'Anniversary Season'.
See, according to my records, we have three anniversary-worthy events -- Discovery Day (aka First Email), First Coffee, and First Night -- spread over a seven-week period, which was, conveniently enough, 18 months ago.
Anyhooze, one recent evening we were marveling at our X-treme! longevity (snort!) when we realized that this is the longest either of us had been with someone without either breaking up or getting married. I think we deserve major points for boldly going where neither of us have gone before. Hell, we aren't even shacking up yet**! I want my gold star, dammit.
And here's an even more amazing fact for your consideration: Records that far back are sparse, but the latest computer models estimate that sometime next summer will mark 25 years since we first met. Shit, that's only seven years less than I've known the Ex, and we were married for-ev-er!
So all you 20-somethings out there, keep an eye on those casual acquaintances and co-workers. You never know....
* Yeah, we're still counting in months. Isn't that precious? Although I think we are required by law and common decency to cease that shit at the two-year mark.
** This is not due to any moral/religious prejudice against 'shacking'; rather, it's more likely the result of some combination of exquisite self-control and unabashed cowardice. Or maybe just the latter.