We started dating what seems like a long time ago, more than eight years ago. Since there was no official date, we both eventually agreed on an official month, November 2001. (Or is it October?)
After a school year spent apart in a long-distance relationship and then your move down to Southern California for school to be closer to me, you eventually had the chance to ask me to marry you.
Of course I said yes.
Though neither of us are perfect, I still believe what I’ve always said: you’re a keeper. Through thick or thin, with occasional tears of sadness and bouts of ridiculous laughter, I am yours. Period.
Is this getting too sappy for you? Well, it doesn’t matter either way. I still mean it, hon.
You’re my valentine.