Anonymous wrote:Theodore
Oliver
Atticus
You and your DH met at a Yo La Tengo show at the Black Cat in 2002. It was your first visit to its new location. "Watch, 14th St is going to be so different in a few years," he said, both hopefully and ruefully. When you decided to move in together the following year, you reluctantly agreed to buy on S St. and HOLY SH!T, was that a wise move. When you sold it in 2011 and moved to Cleveland Park, you cried harder than you cared to admit. You blamed it on the pregnancy hormones, but really, what would life BE like now, with a second kid? Living up THERE? Secretly you were already planning for a third, and you were deliciously scared about it.
As you packed up the last few items, you thought about that time you both got pretty drunk at Asylum (RIP) and took a cab (because there was no Uber then) to the Jefferson Memorial to ironically play "tourist" at midnight. He showed you the most perfect vintage diamond ring and couldn't quite get the words out, so he kind of mumbled "soooooo?" and you started cracking up. He looked heartbroken for a moment, but then realized you were hysterically laugh-crying, and so was he, because he really wanted to ask you the next morning at home, but a little voice told him to bring the ring along that evening. And in that September moment, everything was so perfect that he didn't want to wait.
You got married in your hometown of Pittsburgh and his family (Boston) was (for once) polite enough not to initiate any Patriots-related teasing to your family full of die-hard "Stiller" fans. You wedding song was YLT's "Sugarcube," of course.