Today, my dear friend Jessica asked me (granted it, it was in response to my asking for blog topics) when I first realized it was real that Kurt and I were “gettin’ hitched.” Honestly, I do not know. We knew we wanted to marry each other mere months after we first started talking. People thought we were crazy then, and we probably were, but look at us now. We’ve been together for three years in December and have been married for 9 months, and it’s only getting better. In November, we had officially been in an in-person relationship for longer than we’d been in a long-distance relationship. That’s surreal. We spent a year and a half separated by 1800 miles before he took the plunge and moved here. It’s been up and down and totally different from any other relationship we’ve had or known the entire time. So when did it feel real? When he proposed on that mountaintop? When I walked down the aisle and saw his face? Have I even realized it yet?
I think, officially, my answer is, “It hits me all the time.” I’m reminded of something one of my co-workers at Victoria’s Secret asked me while we were both chilling in the break room the other day. I’d mentioned my husband to someone else, and Adrienne asked, “How long have you been married?”
“Since March 30th. Like 9 months or something. Still newlyweds!”
“How long are you considered newlyweds?”
Good question! I thought about it for a second. “I guess you’re newlyweds until you stop turning to each other in the kitchen and saying, ‘We’re married!’ like it’s a shock. I still marvel at it.”
I really do. Often, we’ll be cuddling on the couch watching Angel on Netflix, making pancakes on a Saturday morning, driving together to a bus stop to part ways and go to work, or just any old thing, and it will hit me with a wave of joy. We are married. So many times, I take it for granted that he is a human being who cares about me, whose feelings matter just as much as mine, and who is doing his absolute best to be a good husband and a good man. I can be so selfish sometimes. But in those simple moments when it’s just us and we’re not worried about anything, just enjoying each other’s company, I remember that he is mine and I am so thankful for him.
We met and courted in an unconventional way, flew back and forth, fought and worried about the future, and yet here we are now. He’s my best friend and he always will be. He’s my cuddle-buddy for the rest of time. I will always have someone with whom to watch nerdy TV, freak out about anything Harry Potter, and eat a delicious dinner after a long day at work. He will always be there to calm me down when I’m anxious, and to hold me close the entire night when I feel lonely. Often, I take him in my arms, smile, and say, “We’re married! We met on Xanga, and now we’re married. You lived in Missouri, and now you live here! With me!” Nearly everyday, he likes to say, “You’re my wife.” I answer, “You’re my husband.” I marvel at it every time.
When will it get old? I hope it never does.