It amazes me to write this post as it means that I've been a wife for three years...or 1,095 days, I did the math.
As someone who never thought she'd marry (live in sin: yes, but marry: no) it's been a pretty cool ride so far. The most surprising part is that it doesn't feel like I thought it would (you know: confining, suffocating, life-sucking). The idea that I'd want to spend the rest of my life with ONE person always seemed quite unrealistic. Looking back, I must have been a nightmare to date as I've been relatively fortunate in attracting very nice and sincere guys. Perhaps an example on how I used to roll would be of assistance here.
Scene: I'm 22, been dating Jerry for almost a year (I shall call him Jerry because he was a lot like Jerry Seinfeld, both in looks and personality. Seriously.) and was about to graduate. We were out for dinner.
Jerry: So it's crazy that my brother's already married. (His brother eloped but having a party in town later that summer. I often think that if it hadn't been for that wedding, this conversation wouldn't have taken place)
Me: Yeah, I think it'll be a fun party in July.
Jerry: I like how they went away to do it.
Me: That's cool. Beaches are fun.
Jerry: Do you ever think of how you'd want yours?
Jerry: Your wedding.
Me: Um, no. I don't really think about that. I'm 22.
Jerry: What does that mean?
Me: Why are you getting so weird? It's not like we're going to get married or anything.
Jerry: *stunned silence*
I literally watched our relationship end the moment I said that. Of course, that conversation isn't really a verbatum account, but my concluding line is 100% accurate. As awful as I felt afterwards, my guilt came from hurting Jerry, not from what I said because I really didn't see myself ever getting married.
It's amazing what a little time and meeting the right person can do.
I was just coming off the end of another relationship (a re-do, to be precise) and had zero intention/want/desire to meet anyone else. In fact, some would say that I was actively avoiding dudes. Funny as that was the exact time that the Universe decided to introduce me to Marc.
"Technically," I'd met him before the night I consider our formal meeting, but I was a sweaty mess after coming back from an "amazing" run with his cousin (we'd thought we ran 10k in 35 minutes when, in fact, we only ran 3k in 35 minutes. You can see how that impacted negatively on my half-marathon training but that's another story).
The night we consider our meeting though, happened about a week later. It was his cousin's birthday and she was having a house party. We were introduced and basically ignored everyone else for the rest of the night, chatting on the diving board by the pool and munching on Goldfish crackers. We ended up back at a friend's place and made out in her backyard for three hours. Not since junior high, when I was too petrified to do anything else, had I kissed someone for that long. We watched the sun come up and then went to bed. The next morning Marc asked me for my number, which I wasn't sure I wanted to give him. Not because I didn't have a good time, but I was heading back to school about five hours away in a few weeks and didn't see the point. Marc says that my pause was VERY LONG and he'd never felt so rejected. I ended up giving him the number, but mostly because he was a friend's cousin and I didn't want to be a total beotch.
He called me the next day. The day after that, we had our first date.
The next week, we had five dates.
The week after that, I met him up at a cottage for four days.
I knew that he was special when we got trapped on a carnival ride in a flash thunderstorm. My flip flops flew off and I had to hold up my jeans to stop them from literally falling off. We both laughed hysterically as he ran around the platform, trying to find my shoes, and then laughed even more at the state of my mascara-streaked face and dripping clothes. Then the highway flooded out and it look four hours to get home. It was the best date of my life.
He drove out to my school almost every weekend for our first three months together. I was writing my Master's thesis at the time and was up to my eyeballs in research, so he made the drive so I could work up until Friday evening, giving us two nights to hang out. My friends loved him, there was no pressure - it was unlike any relationship I'd had before.
When I moved back to Toronto and got a place downtown, we had our first big fight. Fortunately it had little to do with "us" and more to do with a slightly-obsessed female friend of his who'd said that it was either, "her or me." As you can probably conclude, I won.
I had lived on my own for many years when Marc moved in and I was EXTREMELY nervous about it. Due to my paranoia, before we decided to live together, I made us talk about everything.
You name it, we covered it.
Of course, the idea of marriage was included and I was honest and upfront with Marc when I told him that I wasn't interested in marrying him, but didn't want a life without him. He respected my stance and we moved on to another heavy conversation. The cool thing was though, they were never all that heavy.
After we'd lived together for about six months and everything was still awesome, Marc turned to me while we chilling on the couch and said,
"Look, I get that marriage isn't important to you but it's becoming kind of important to me. I'm not saying that I want to get married right now, but do you think that you'd ever change your mind, now that we've lived together for a while? Don't answer right away. Seriously. Do. Not. Answer. Now. Think about it and let me know."
It was the most romantic thing I'd ever heard. Haha!
I thought about it for a couple of days (again, Marc will say that it was much longer, but it really wasn't). I don't remember the logistics of that second conversation, but I figured that being married to Marc may not be a total disaster. Having a piece of paper saying that we were husband and wife didn't matter to me, but if it mattered to him then I needed to consider it. As you can probably guess, because you guys are super smart, I said, "yes." And then, just over a year later, we were married on a beach in St. Lucia. At the time, we'd been together for just shy of three years (not that we ever remembered our anniversary. I'm VERY impressed with us this year though, because we started talking about it a while ago. Yay, us.)
|This is our fav. My baby brother took it, which is probably why it's so great. That and my extensions look FIERCE. Oh...and we're so happy we're about to pass out, but whatevs.|
It's been a roller-coaster ride the last three years where we've really put the "in sickness" part of the deal to task and it fills me with resounding confidence that we'll be together until one of us croaks (*knocks on wood*) because despite all the uncertainty, we're still having a fantastic time. I've never felt like a burden, even with fate's little bait-and-switch, and he makes the shitty days MUCH less shitty. He's my ultimate best friend and I am positive that I could never be as happy with someone else. The fact that I'm committing to that fact on the internet, where nothing disappears, is a testament to the amazingness factor of my wonderful and hilarious husband/partner/lovaaaaa.
So there you go. That's the story of how I became Mrs. Happypants (I kept my maiden name and when people insist on calling us "Mr. & Mrs. _________," we respond with, "It's Mr. & Mrs. Happypants, actually" -- FINE, you got me...we only did this ONCE but I almost peed myself).
Happy Anniversary Babe! According to Google, I've gotta get you something made of leather.