(Warning: Total mushiness ahead. And I'm not saying our relationship is perfect. Obviously, there are still things he does that drive me crazy and some days I'd like to smack him - figuratively, of course - but overall, more often than not, I find myself so grateful and blessed that my husband still loves me after all these years.)
Sixteen years ago, my husband and I got married after having dated for 6 years. This means that this month marked 22 years of our being together. We have been together a long time...and I still find it amazing how strong our relationship is.
Amazing.
Unbelievable.
Freakin' unreal.
Let's be honest. In today's culture, it is more common to hear about divorce than married couples who have made it this long, especially if the relationship started between a preppy, sorority girl and a heavy-metal headbanger with piercings, both barely out of their teen years.
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| Dating for almost a year... |
What the heck?
I know, it's crazy, right? No one thought we would make it. I admit that neither of us were even thinking that way. Sure, I liked him. Yes, I thought he was cute. But to think forever? Please! Prior to my husband, my longest relationship had lasted days - okay, a few weeks - but I am not sure I can even call that a relationship. I had some serious commitment issues, so I had never imagined marrying anyone, especially not someone who was so completely "not my type." And before you think I was a cold-hearted b-word, let me share this little tidbit: it was not something on his mind either. In fact, early on, he actually point-blank said to me, "Don't take me too seriously." He even wrote it on the Christmas card he sent me after we had been dating a couple months. Clearly, we were just taking it day-by-day.
But you know what? You just never know what life has in store....
Somewhere along the way, it happened: we fell in love.
For some reason, it worked - we worked - and I knew. I can't remember exactly when that was. Maybe it was during one of my "distance makes the heart grow fonder" phases. One summer I even went to Japan for 2.5 months. Much to my surprise, I spent a good deal of money calling him once a week and crying on the phone, wailing about how much I missed him. (Good grief. However did he put up with THAT?) Gone were the days of my "game-playing" and acting like I didn't care that much - even when I had. Instead, letters were sent almost every day. Tears were shed as I counted down the days to go home and see him. It's surprising I didn't scare the crap out of him right there, being all clingy and emotional. haha.
The difference for me was that we were able to be ourselves with one another - be stupid, be goofy, be honest. Maybe that's just who he is, but for me, I had always seemed to have this persona I felt I needed to be....until I was with him. He accepted all my craziness: my only child tendencies; my desire to travel for weeks, sometimes months at a time; my habit of wanting to take a million photos, even indulging me when I took photos of us wearing silly eye masks or humongous 3-d glasses. (I'd share those two photos as well, but I think there *is* a limit to how much he'll accept now! haha.)
And now, here we are....22 years later, grown-ups (or so we fool people into believing we are) with careers, two kids, a mortgage, and bills. And while some things have changed, some things feel exactly the same. (cue sappy music) Believe it or not (and sometimes I have a hard time believing it myself), I love this man as much as I did when I first fell in love with him - maybe even more. Okay, probably more.
I am still amazed....and so very grateful.
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*Note: I will be attempting to write more regularly. My goal is to write at least once a week, about something for which I am grateful.
