Not sure why but I can hardly separate out in my mind my own match day (in the 1990's) and my husband's a few years later. Earlier today I asked him to remind me about the circumstances surrounding our opening those fateful envelopes. I don't think it's post-traumatic stress-induced amnesia, since we both were happy with each of our matches, despite the hurdles coordinating the geography and job prospects without a true couples match. Perhaps my MIM status has resulted in a loss for specific details; I now more holistically just remember that it ultimately all worked out for the best. Then again, my coffee cup is usually half full.
What's coming back to me now is how silly I felt mentioning "my boyfriend" during interviews leading up to match day, since we'd actually been (living) together for many many years prior to actually getting married. Sometimes I mixed it up by saying "significant other." We did become domestic partners so we could co-habitate in the med school dorms, us and a few thousand gay New Yorkers. In any case, most of the hard part was us figuring it out beforehand, crafting the list, and then once we met our match we planned accordingly. After all, the culture in medicine is to train for 3-4 years, and then make a decision to move or stay. Then you train for several more years and then make a decision to move or stay. And so on. Fortunately for us, the "move or stay" has always involved staying in love.