We went out to Grendel's, back when it occupied the entire building in the middle of Harvard Square -- the heart of the still-oddly-bohemian land that the Square tried to be. It was cheap and tasty, full of college students and post-students, deliberately laid-back amidst the lovely house around us.
I ordered the alfredo; she got the lasagna. As our plates arrived (small, but about right for a cheap individual dinner), we looked at the sides, and simultaneously said, "Would you like my tomato?". Of such things are fates built.
It was our first night together, and we were near-inseparable after that; by the time we actually married, we'd been all but living together for three years. We retained Halloween as our dativersary -- returning to Grendel's each year until the main restaurant closed, and afterwards declaring that it would always be a cheap but pleasant date night -- put out a little candy for the rugrats and then go have an evening for ourselves.
A melancholy day for me, this being the very oldest of our formal anniversaries, but a good one to reflect on many past evenings...