Last week Mike and I celebrated 19 years together. I didn’t announce or post it before now, because we went away for a few days to celebrate. We rented a beach house – couldn’t beat the 60+ degree sunny weather for a ‘winter’ weekend at the beach – and all of us – Mike, me, ‘lil q and Emma (the dog) – had a weekend away.

I said 19 years together because now that we’re married, we’re not exactly sure how to talk about it. We’ve not been married five months yet, so do we tell people we’re newlyweds? I mean really? Newlyweds? Not sure that works. But on the other hand 19 years since our first dates isn’t quite the same as 19 years married. For the first two plus years we lived in different cities and spent a fortune taking the train between Philadelphia and Washington. Were we together, yes, were we married? Not so much.

I’m good saying we’ve been together 19 years, but I’d say if we were picking the point where we’d have gotten ‘married’ if they allowed it, I’d go with May of 1997. That’s when I quit my job and moved down to DC so we could be together. At that point we sold both our cars, bought a new one together, opened joint everything accounts, savings, checking, brokerage. We were as married as we could be at the time.

Since there are several dates we could use, we just say it’s been 19 years this month and leave it at that. Besides, you can’t beat February at the beach.