Today is our anniversary. Six years to the day. The day where we awkwardly sat on my university bed and I said: "So. Um. Are we like...together?" And he said: "Um. I hope so?"
A month later, I love yous were said.
Two months later, the first holiday was had.
Six months later, I moved into his student house, and lived with three other blokes.
A year later, we found our our own student house together.
Two years later, we graduated, moved in with my parents, and then rented our first flat.
Three years later, we bought our first house and adopted a dog named Max.
Four years later, we found out we were having a baby.
Five years later, on 12th June 2012 at 12:22pm, he was born and we fell in love with our little boy, all 8lb 6oz of him. And we named him William.
Five and a half years later, we moved back to the village where I was raised, bought a bigger home, a family home.
Six years later, we're here and now. We haven't booked our anniversary off this year, like we used to, because life is no longer carefree. We don't go on nights out much anymore, as we don't have the time. We work hard and we rarely have time for ourselves. But he's the person I go to first, every time. He's the person I steal the duvet covers from at night. He's the person who makes me laugh until I'm worried I might wee. He's also the person I want to lamp with a shoe as he annoys me that much. He's the father of my boy. And he gives me goosebumps - both out of love and fury. He's not perfect, but he's mine.
And, if you know the song Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man of Mine, you'll know what I mean.
So, six years? That's a lot. And we haven't killed each other yet.