A few months later, I found myself sitting next to a tall, sexy brunette on the shores of Lake Tahoe, trying oppressively for a smooch. All of my amorous advances had been spurned, my top chick-getting techniques defeated, and I was reduced to adopting the "Resistance Is Futile" tact.

"Y'know, a year from now you and I are going to be married," I told her.

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As it turned out, I was right -- she would probably point out that this was one of the very few times in which I was right about something -- but she still wouldn't kiss me until a month later.

I know it's cheesy and simplistic, and I have a lot of trouble fitting this into my understanding of the universe, but somehow, someway, some people are simply made to be together.

Unfortunately, her parents didn't immediately buy into this line of thinking. They were not happy with the idea of a foul-mouthed, beer-drinking member of the Global Media Conspiracy running off with their much-loved and Mormon-raised daughter.

Nonetheless, at just a little after 7 p.m. on June 12, 1999, in a backyard in St. George, Utah, I nervously pushed a cheap ring onto my wife's finger -- just 11 months after my prophecy.

As you read this, we are on vacation, celebrating our third anniversary. The traditional third anniversary gift is leather -- make your own rude joke here.

I find it difficult to assess how much my wife means to me, because it is difficult to assess who and what I would be without her. As I say, we were meant to be together. It is difficult to separate the whole and determine how important the individual parts are and how well they would work without one another.

That's not to say that I am necessarily dependent on my wife(*). I'm pretty sure it's not too healthy to desperately need someone in order to be complete. But I can't help but wonder if I would be as far along in life as I am if I hadn't bumped into her.

So much of what I pride in myself is brought out by her. It was a bit like discovering fourth and fifth gear. I had been able to get by and get around on three gears, but I simply wasn't living to my full capacity, and was putting too much strain on myself when I tried. Suddenly, my wife awakened in me my own strengths. But I have no idea if I would have ever discovered them on my own.

Fortunately, somehow the universe, God, and Southwest Airlines pushed us together.

A lot of people have a pretty serious aversion to marriage. They look upon it as if it were banking or dentistry: Tedious, painful, and not particularly fun.

Actually, marriage is quite fun. Or perhaps I am lucky that I have found someone with whom I find joy in simply being near.

As I've mentioned before, I like my wife. I like hanging out with her. My happiest moments are when we're dancing in the living room, or hiking or screaming obscenities at Lakers forward Rick Fox.

I have no idea where I am headed in life, but I'm not as concerned about that fact as I used to be. I know that wherever I go, it will be fun -- because my wife will be with me.

Happy anniversary, Rachel. Thank you for marrying me -- I have no idea why you did, but I hope you won't come to your senses any time soon.

* This is a lie. Without my wife, I would most likely have already died in some sort of freak accident while making macaroni and cheese.

Chris Cope is married, with no children. His column appears every other Tuesday.