I’ve known my husband thirty-three years. We dated on and off four of those years, starting my sophomore year of high school and going into college. We were engaged less than a year. We’ve been married for over twenty-eight. Add in three kids, a zoo of pets, a few major moves, and a son who’s battled cancer twice, we’ve been navigating life together for what feels like a very long time. And most of it’s been rough. During those early sporadic dating years, we always at least remained close friends. When we got back together the final time, my husband told me he’d compared everyone he’d ever dated to me,…