Today is our wedding anniversary. We got married so long ago that we rode a woolly mammoth to our honeymoon. Okay, not quite–but our car did have an 8-track player. (Our honeymoon destination? Exotic Lincoln, Nebraska, where we were about to relocate for grad school). And we’ve known each other forever. We met when I was 15 and he was 17. I remember him calling me the first night after we’d met, and we talked for hours. He was making all sorts of plans for what we could do during the summer, and I was thinking, How presumptuous to assume we’ll still be together then! And here we are, three states, six houses, two kids, and many gray hairs later.
My husband has his annoying quirks (like a football obsession), but he’s a wonderful man. He’s willing to hold down the fort when I travel (“Okey-doke, hon. You stay here with the job and the kids and the bathroom remodel while I go live in Europe for six weeks. Bye!”). He’s patient. Last night, one of the smoke alarm batteries started chirping at nearly midnight. Older daughter and I couldn’t figure out how to wrench the damn thing out of the ceiling to replace the battery. Despite the late hour and a recent back injury, hubby schlepped downstairs, climbed the ladder, and disabled the thing, all with only minor complaints. And he’s hugely supportive of my writing. He generally doesn’t read much but sports and finance stuff, but he reads my books. And he pimps them to people he knows, and he makes me lovely spreadsheets to keep track of my sales. He even occasionally serves as consultant on Man Matters, as well as on specific issues such as playing blackjack (Motel. Pool.) or home improvement (the Bones books).
He surprised me when he proposed to me at an Italian restaurant while I was in college. And since then, he’s surprised me with a fantastic car, a Mexican cruise, and a night at the Grand Canyon.
As we celebrate our anniversary this year, I’m particularly pleased to know that in so many places, marriages have recently become more inclusive. It makes us so happy that our LGBT friends and family members can now also enter into
the bondage of matrimony the joys of married life.
Some folks are content having a “partner”–and there’s nothing at all wrong with that. But I think for many of us, “spouse” implies a bit more. It means optimism about a shared life. It means a commitment to forever. It means a willingness to climb ladders at midnight with a sore back, and to give up on going anywhere on Sundays from August through early February.
Happy anniversary, honey!