A bunch of people who are in love with other people will remember May 17, 2004 for the rest of their lives.
I remember a different May 17 -- in 1997, to be precise -- for the exact same reason.
Seven years, four jobs between us, four apartments shared, three Lord of the Rings movies, two Star Wars movies, four cats (though two are now gone), one human being produced, and another in progress. Two lives shared, and not threatened at all by this:
I wish I had something more profound to say about marriage, but I really don't. I can only echo words expressed by young J.D. Dorian on Scrubs: "I don't think we're meant to be alone."