Eight years ago tonight, Matt and I went out on our first official date to a French pizza restaurant. He gave me a card, which was unexpected and sweet (+), but then was too cheap to let me order my own pizza and made me share his (-). If you would have told either of us that night that eight years later we’d be married with a baby and living in Wisconsin, we’d have spit out our cocktails laughing so hard.
Since that first date, pizza seems to have become our Valentines Day tradition. Every February 14th we have dinner at the same neighborhood pizza place, which serves heart-shaped pizzas on Valentines Day. The order is always the same – red peppers, goat cheese, pepperoni and kalamata olives. The only thing that will be different this year is there will be three of us at the table. (Last year Matteo was here, but we had to have it delivered.)
I love you Matt. Happy Valentines Day!