3 years

I’m working on the post about New York, but sometimes computers are dumb and make it hard to put as many pictures up as I want to.  So then I get frustrated and have to stop working on it before I throw something at the computer screen.  But it is in the works, and will be coming soon!!

This week, Peter and I celebrated our 3 year anniversary.  

On Monday, we went out for a nice dinner and looked all pretty.

We went to our new favorite restaurant called Fetaz that serves tapas and sandwiches and other yummy things.  The waitress asked what we wanted to drink, and I ordered first, and since we’re soooo romantic, I ordered wine.

Peter ordered Mellow Yellow.

When we decided what we wanted to eat, because we’re soooo romantic, Peter ordered three different tapas that we could share.

I ordered the Tyrannosaurus Rex sandwich (DISCLAIMER: It is not as gluttonous as it sounds.  It’s actually quite delicious and more the size of a Raptor.  Honey barbecue chicken, pineapple salsa and some sort of light, delicious bread.).

On Wednesday was the actual day where three years ago Peter asked me to be his giiiiiirlfrieeeeend.  

Peter’s been super busy with work and presentations and things, so I didn’t think that I’d be able to see him last night, but then it worked out that he could come to my apartment for a quick dinner.

I exercised right after work.  When I exercise, I sweat like no other and my face gets all red, and I disgust even myself.  But HEY.  I’m EXERCISING so SHUT UP.

Via text –

Sara: I just want to remind you that I am the least attractive (1) while I’m working out and (2) until I’ve showered after working out.

Pete: Well I’m heading over to see you now!

Sara: Ok, just remember how much you love me while you’re on your way.  At least I changed my clothes.

So then Peter came over and we were super romantic eating chicken wings and using 3428397 napkins.  He looked super put-together because he came right from work.  I, on the other hand, was much less attractive wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and my hair slicked to my head, cheeks still slightly rosy.

But we took a picture anyways.  This is, after all, the first time that we’ve actually been able to SEE each other on our anniversary.

Thanks, Peter, for still liking me even when I’m in my least attractive state.

And also for letting my write about you on my blog.  Because I don’t know if I’d let you write about me.

PS: When I was writing about the tapas, I kept writing tatas, and it made me laugh every time.  Mature, I know.


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