First Wedding Anniversary (Paper)
Oh, the great Paper Anniversary! The very first sigh-worthy stop on the long, scenic trips of matrimonial milestones. It’s like the wedding graduation caps have just been tossed, you're elbow-deep in saved-up layers of sporting-event nachos, and the “newlywed” tiara is starting to tilt slightly sideways. (Not that it stopped you from wearing it.)
You blinked, rolled your eyes at each other, argued over whose washing turn came next, cooked dinner together, maybe killed an indiscriminate number of houseplants and vinyl records under a mountain of stacks of unfiled paperwork (paper anniversary relevance anyone?)—and, boom, one year later… you’re still here. Together. Hurrah!
You could do something conventional and predictable, like gifting traditional paper tickets to a concert or freaking yawn-inducing tickets to that hot air balloon show on a Thursday evening in the Upper Meadows. But, I suggest turning the celebration dial—a cheeky notch up—to the Unsanity Edition of marriage collectibles.
So, what will it be?
First, let’s humor your wannabe philosopher self for a minute and ponder paper's grand irony. Paper—fragile, tearable, very charm-your-way-out-of-getting-out-of-bedable, asserts itself at the delicate intersection of both "Here Today, Not Tomorrow" and "Still Throwback Lifeliner If Saved Carefully Forever." Check it: love jogging through contorted apologies on age-worn Post-its. These tacked messengers line the corner glass-laden door you collectively made your Complaint Station in the apartment. Stick your grievances, liver-green angst hang-ups, lovingly sequenced recollections, Muse-level stinkers—pure art.
Feeling bold yet? Go ahead, mimic the experience.
You could assemble the ultimate "Book of Our First 365' Beauty-of-the-Mundaneness In Manner of Pencraft Bridge & Binary Conversation!" Phew, boy, what a title. Yes, here's where you are shambling together an unorthodox scrapbook—scraps from said Affectible Shrivel—show-stopping 'his socks on her feet,’ ‘first Ikean brawl' exhibit, as gleaming sedentary vessels proudly snuggle together in glossy triumph.
Alternatively, embrace chaos! Enter: Craft your own origami confetti masterpiece, sculpt butterflies in exaggerated consumer receipt borders or city zone-exclusive parking citations because hey, they talked papers at orientation too.
And no, your wedding anniversary story doesn't need backup dancers compared to your cousin's second-chance fourth-year Corruption Circus Carousel!
It’s laughs, fights, microwave bursts of darkness—that’s what tucks itself into that spiraling funnel that became a one-year whirl in time's Ty Cobbopolis Nookyride Park (the Coasters are ostentatiously off-limits indefinitely, because Waldorf Takeout Clock’s striking). I bet there’s a surprise handwrite-of-choice quote looping through Jean's jokes one quick random Carnegie Peele experiment, which is seemingly either saving or Taj Problematizing everything.
Wow, you two really did it! You survived exchanging lopsided valentines (probably ‘signed’ with a kitchen spatula instead of a pen) and sending each other passionate essays about your first-year shenanigans—the kind of over-the-top, bookish love notes only true nerds (I mean that lovingly) write. All those melodramatic letters you once mailed or tucked into jacket pockets? Guess what—they’re now “exhibit A” for your anniversary nostalgia montage; the kind you can both giggle over and display with pride. Talk about making your own mushy history.
So here’s to the proud members of the “Our Relationship Is Basically an Arts-and-Crafts Project” club. Look at you, still standing! (Upright, hopefully, unless you’ve just tripped over your anniversary breakfast in bed. Been there.)
Between us, I hope you’re sticking with the paper theme—decorate the house with love notes, waltz together like nobody’s grading your rhythm, and turn ordinary Tuesday afternoons into legendary love stories that would make your high school selves both envious and mortified. Trust me, those awkward early days (paper hearts jammed in lockers, maybe?) are now Grade A romantic vintage.
So dance, write, reminisce. Hoard every silly shopping list and scribbled note, because those little relics? They just might become the best artifacts of your adventure.
Go forth, you adorable goons! Here’s to another year of memory-making, note-passing, and, above all, an uncrumpled, unbending, and ever-growing love.
First year anyone? Go. Hug. Yourself.