Two years ago at this time I was prepared to be a spinster. I was 34 years old and had never had a serious relationship. I worked full-time, owned my home, and treated my fur babies as children. Then I went to a plaster repair workshop and it all changed.
Our courtship was fast. I knew immediately that he was different. He pursued — courageously and with determination in a way that seems rare of men these days. We got engaged less than three months after our first date. Four months later, we committed our lives to each other. That was a year ago this week.
I’m going to admit it. I love being married to this person who was so worth the wait.
I love having this other to consider before I make any decisions. I love having a forever-companion and am ever-amazed by all the things we both enjoy doing–together! Some of our activities are new to him (I doubt he ever imagined himself following the Monkees across the United States); some are new to me (gearing up with hiking boots and a large, heavy backpack). I love looking forward to the time we spend each evening when work is over…I’ve introduced him to The Wonder Years; he’s developed unbeatable Ticket To Ride skills; and we’ve both learned a thing or two about restoring old houses. I love that I have his support in my endeavors and hope he feels mine. I love that no matter how angry we might be with each other, at the end of the day we can count on the other to love us anyway.
I’m not sure if marriage is easier or harder than I thought it would be. We both did a lot of living before knowing each other and it is not easy to have huge chunks of your adult lives that were not shared. That’s probably been our biggest struggle. We were also set in our ways, but I love the things I’ve learned from Brian, simple things that make so much sense…things that I had never thought of. I mourn that we had nearly two decades of adult life spent apart from each other. But I look at the memories we’ve made in just this first year and can only imagine what lies ahead.