Lately, I’ve been going through a lot of emotions. But among the most prominent, to out-weigh the negative ones, is the love I have for my husband.
I met my husband in May of 2006, on a Memorial Weekend camping trip. I was dating a friend of his, M, who invited me on this trip with a group of his friends. There were 10 of us altogether going on this trip. When I met the man who would become my husband, I had no idea, much less no intention, of dating him. I got to know almost everyone on the camping trip, and also during the time discovered that the guy I was dating and I were not a good match for each other. Needless to say, after the camping trip, our relationship as it was, was over, although I enjoyed having M as a friend, and tried to keep a friendship going. I was invited out to a birthday party, and invited him out whenever I went to the beach that summer. Because I got to know my husband more, with no one else to go with me to the beach on the weekends that summer, I invited him to go with me. We ended up spending one day almost every weekend getting together to go to the beach, or elsewhere if the weather wasn’t beach-worthy. After a month and a half of this, we discovered we had taken to each other, and he asked me to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t overly sweet or romantic, he’s not that kind of guy. But I knew there was something about him, something about “us”, that I didn’t want to miss.
We did well together, and he became my longest relationship. I had somehow managed to end all of my previous ones by the 9-month mark. Two years later, I started to worry about things, about my life. I had just graduated college, and was stuck without a job, living at home. I was ready for the next step – moving out of our parents’ houses, ideally we would both be employed (I was hopeful to find a job soon), and continuing our own life together. He seemed content with where we were. So, I thought it would be better to end the relationship, get my life together, and enjoy being single until I found someone with the same ideals as me, who was ready for the same things as me. I think I went an entire month being single, but still keeping in touch with him. I wasn’t any happier without him. Although, during that month, the perfect job for me became available, and I got it! When we got back together, he had enlisted in the Army, and was scheduled to leave in 2 months. We found an apartment close to my new job, and lived together until he left. Finally, we were getting somewhere, at least. I had my job, and we had moved out of each of our parents’ houses. [I love both of our parents dearly, but it’s not conducive to a relationship to be living with parents or in-laws as an adult, I believe. You need that alone time, and the independence that living on your own brings].
He left for BCT,and I missed him dearly. We wrote each other letters, he’d call me when he was granted access to his cell phone. He sent me a letter suggesting he wanted to marry me, so when I talked to him that night, he confirmed that was what he had been thinking about lately. I was ecstatic! He said he was going to write a letter to my parents, asking for their permission to marry me. Of course, they loved him from the day he first drove in their driveway, so they were just as happy, and of course permissive. When we all went to visit him for his graduation from BCT, on our last night together, he proposed to me. Again, it wasn’t overly sweet or romantic. He pulled out the ring, which had been in his family in some form or another (each generation changed the setting), said “Everyone here is waiting for me to ask you to marry me…so…will you?” If that’s not word-for-word, it is very close to how he proposed to me. I was just so happy he finally asked, I blurted out a “Yes!” And we were to be engaged through his AIT-training, getting married as soon as he could come home.
Planning a wedding by myself was both awesome for me, but also stressful. Of course, my husband wouldn’t know exactly when he’d be coming home – a lot depended on if he passed all of his training on time. I asked for his input – or rather, approval, when I came up with ideas. I had my mom to help a lot with the planning, and my mother-in-law to help with the execution as well. We started by wanting to plan a large wedding so all of our family and closest friends could be invited. But with the short time schedule, lack of money because we hadn’t planned on me ever having a short engagement, and not knowing when we could actually set a date and how far in advance we would know, we thought it would be unfair to plan something extravagant, and keep invitation RSVP’s open-ended for “sometime in July or August.” We ended up planning a small, intimate ceremony with our parents, his brother and his family, my aunt and her two sons, the closest friend to my family who is also a Notary, his aunt her daughter, and his family’s closest friends, and my photographer. We had an attendance of 19, I believe, if I am recounting correctly. We didn’t have a real “rehearsal dinner,” we just all went to a very casual restaurant the night before to eat, drink, and celebrate. I wasn’t NOT allowed to see my husband that night and the next day before the ceremony. Being apart for so long, and having an evening wedding, there’s no way anyone could pry me away from his side. We did have a dinner planned at a local restaurant for after the ceremony. There was no dance, no DJ, nothing like that. Just a very simple and elegant ceremony, followed by a very nice dinner.
It was absolutely perfect. I married my best friend, and I couldn’t ask for much more than that.
Marriage hasn’t always been easy, and being a military wife doesn’t make it any easier. We had our quarrels about stupid things, figuring each other out and how we live together – since we had only lived together so briefly before getting married. We still fight about stupid things from time to time, but not so often anymore. Deployment puts things in perspective, but stress and anxiety also bring out inappropriate emotions for stupid things from time to time. I know it doesn’t matter how towels are folded.
But one thing is for sure, I can’t imagine ever having anyone else in my life as my husband. Although he’ll drive me crazy sometimes, I know that he’s the one who ultimately keeps me grounded. He pushes me when I need to be pushed, protects me when I need protection, and lets me fly and do my own thing when I want or need it. I know he’s always there for me, as I’m always there for him.
I truly feel like my purpose is to love him. Not in a weird way, like a servant, or anything. But I am truly happiest around him.
He has amazing wit which always cracks me up. I love his perspective on all things life.
He is extremely intelligent, and loves history. He’s also wonderful at math, which is great, because I’m convinced I’m retarded in the subject area. But I’m a wonderful speller and great with words, which is his weakness, so we balance each other out.
I really think about us, our relationship, tangibly, like this – If you were to place your hands face up in front of you, and interlock your fingers, it’s how we are – we strengthen, support, and complete each other.
I think about it, from time to time, wondering how anyone could ever stack up and compare to him; if he could ever be replaced. Mind you I would NEVER want to replace him, but, you know, morbid deployment thoughts. I don’t think I could ever be as happy as I am with him. No one else could do for me what he does for me. He’s my one. He’s my forever.