Nineteen Years of Nothin’ but Love

Except when he pisses me off.

The hubs and I celebrated nineteen years of marriage last week.  Even though writing 19 would’ve been grammatically correct, I went ahead and spelled it out.  Because nineteen is longer than 19, and nineteen years is a long damn time.  Two characters doesn’t really seem to do it justice.

What to say about nineteen years of marriage.

I could channel my inner Hallmark greeting card writer and say something about how magical it’s been.  Enduring life’s highs and lows with my best friend, tackling all the challenges which have come before us as a team.  Like a well-oiled machine.  Always completely in sync and of one accord.  All the while nurturing our deep spiritual connection.  And throw in some nonsense about how grateful I am for the challenges we’ve encountered, because challenges are opportunities for growth.

Or, I could tell you the truth.  Quite frankly, I’d like many of the challenges we’ve faced to go fuck themselves.  And there’ve been days when it didn’t even feel like we inhabited the same planet, let alone function together as a well-oiled machine.  And I’d have been fine with zero growth, especially since I’m sitting here at 20 pounds overweight (Yeah, yeah, yeah. But let’s just go with 20, ummm-KAY?). And yeah, I realize when people talk about ‘growth’ in this context they’re usually referring to growth of a spiritual or mental nature.  Becoming a better person.  But I haven’t experienced that kind of growth.  I’ve only gotten fatter.  Thus, I can only conclude that challenge and growth are overrated.

I could write about how it’s all gone down just like I though it would when I my 22 year old self (yes, really. insanity.) thought it would.

Or, I could tell you the truth.  I had no idea what was in store.  And if I’d had a crystal ball showing me some of the aforementioned challenges, I’d have likely gone running for the hills.  With my tendency toward hyperbole, you probably think I’m exaggerating or being sarcastic.  Oh, how I wish.

So, here I sit, nearly two decades later.  The ride has been unpredictable, unconventional, and uncouth.  There are countless aspects of my present day life I never in my wildest dreams could’ve predicted, and there have been some days that have been really, really damn hard.

And yet, we’re here.  And we’re mostly ok. I generally like the guy most of the time and he seems to reciprocate the sentiment.  We’re both hopelessly in love with our two children even though they frequently drive us batshit crazy.  Both grateful to sit where we do today.  Both ready to take on the next 19 years and see what challenges will come. We’ve made mistakes, and I’ve no doubt we’ll make many more; but we’re here.

Actually, I’m here.  Chris is in Amsterdam.  Which makes me unspeakably jealous.  So I take everything from the last paragraph back.  I hate him.

I KID.

I love him.  Really.  And I am grateful for the journey.