“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

“We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness — and call it love — true love.” — Robert Fulghum, “True Love”

In 2007, 16 years ago, I sat at my desk at the Battle Creek Enquirer and heard an unusual sound — a charming, rattling, fast-paced, noisy, lovely, lifting laughter — come from across the room.

I turned to my coworker and asked, “Who let that dolphin in here?”

My boss shortly thereafter introduced the “dolphin” as Darby, who’d just joined the Enquirer as a news assistant. She wore a yellow sweater and had straight, brownish-red hair and the brightest smile I’d ever seen.

I fell in love with her right then.

On Sunday, we celebrate 12 years of marriage.

It would take until July 9, 2009 before our friendship morphed into something more. We call that day Weird Thursday, because neither of us expected to profess our love for the other that night when we walked up to the top floor of that parking garage to take in the city lights.

We married on Sept. 10, 2011. Darby really liked that date because I have no excuse for forgetting it — nine, 10, 11. She also liked it because it falls two days before my birthday. If I forget the anniversary, she might just forget my birthday.

Best birthday present I ever got was getting to call her my wife.

We honeymooned in the Upper Peninsula, at a bed-and-breakfast called Chamberlin’s Ole Forest Inn in Curtis, centrally located on the peninsula so we could make day trips to all the touristy stuff. We did Oswald’s Bear Ranch, Tahquamenon Falls. We made it to Munising on my birthday and Darby had planned a Pictured Rocks boat tour, but the boats didn’t go out that day because it was too windy.

Darby cried.

And that right there I think says a lot about how to have a marriage that lasts for years and years.

We weep for each other. We laugh with each other. We celebrate each other’s successes and mourn each other’s losses.

We give each other space to be ourselves, but cheer each other on every day.

We are best friends first, lovers second.

The last 12 years haven’t all been roses. We’ve certainly had our thorns.

But I’d say we’ve had more good years than bad, more good months than bad, more good weeks than bad, more good days than bad.

I credit our friendship for that.

Hunter S. Thompson said a sense of humor is the best measure of sanity, to which I would add it’s also the best measure of compatibility, and Darby and I share the same sense of humor.

We have 1,000 inside jokes — one-liners from our favorite movies, quips we’ve cracked at each other over the years, stories of humorous things we’ve shared over the years. We pull one of those inside jokes out and make each other laugh every day, and we develop new inside jokes every year.

We enjoy each other’s company, whether it’s on a trip to our favorite hotel on Mackinac Island, where we’re headed this weekend, or just sitting around home watching our favorite shows (we’re rewatching “House” right now). That comes from friendship.

We try to give each other space to be separate people. I’m in Rotary Club, she’s in Kiwanis. She took a solo trip to Maryland to visit friends. I make frequent trips downstate to visit my family. She participates in Peace Committee. I participate in men’s yoga.

We’re proud of each other. She, for example, is a main organizer of Alpena’s suicide prevention walk happening later this month. Watching her do that work, the way she cares for the community and something bigger than herself, I am honored to be her husband.

We fight sometimes, sure. We get on each other’s nerves occasionally and, sometimes, we really enjoy that time we spend apart. Like every marriage, we have to sometimes put in the work to tune up our relationship.

But, when it really counts, we fit together like puzzle pieces, and that’s made 12 years fly by sweetly.

I don’t pretend to know the secrets of marriage, and I wouldn’t prescribe anything to anyone.

But what Darby and I have done works for us, and I can’t wait for the next 12 years … and the next … and the next …

Justin A. Hinkley can be reached at 989-354-3112 or jhinkley@thealpenanews.com. Follow him on Twitter @JustinHinkley.