My husband and I went on our first date 3 years ago.
I had met him the Thursday night before at a local townie bar, and through texts and lots more texts, we planned our first date for July 3rd.
This is a big deal to me.
In Manomet, a small subset of Plymouth, Ma, we don't celebrate on the 4th, we celebrate on the 3rd.
I'm talking bonfires, booze, fireworks, blocked off roads, the works.
So for me to give up the summer equivalent of Christmas for a first date was a big thing.
To be as cheesy as possible, we saw fireworks.
I loved it.
And 3 years later, I still see them when he kisses me.