Our anniversary is February 24.
Wow…45 looooooong years.
Ha, just kidding. 15 years.
Hubby and I are the happiest married couple I know. We have fun together and LIKE each other (there’s an idea) and I can’t imagine being with anyone else.
Okay, I lied. Occasionally I daydream about Wolverine. (Not Hugh Jackman, mind you. Wolverine.) But geez, who wouldn’t? Watch. He’s not wearing a shirt. Tell me I’m crazy.
Disclaimer: if you don’t want to see comeuppance for trying to kill one’s daughter, stop the video at 1:45.
You watched the whole thing, didn’t you. Twice? Shameless hussy.
Since he self-heals, I have a feeling some of that muscled beauty is computer generated. I feel so cheated.
This is about real people.
In addition to being the happiest, we’re also in the running for “Longest Time Hitched to the First Person You Married” award among friends in our age bracket. People sometimes ask us our secret, so I thought I’d share it with you.
- thinking of getting married
- filling out a FarmersOnly.com profile
- recovering from being caught mousing around AshleyMadison (I still can’t believe that’s real)
- a confirmed bachelor(ette)
- a confirmed bachelor(ette) with a Tinder account
this advice will change your life.
Or it will give you yet another reason to say, “Thank God I’m not THAT screwed up.”
Either way, I’m happy to help.
Ways to Stay Married for
40 15 years
Begin with a memorable encounter
Rain forced P.E. classes into the gym; the teachers called, “Run ten laps and then you can sit with your friends!” I still remember the sound of sneakers slapping and squeaking on the gym floor. Thankfully, this memory has no smell. “Sweaty teen” is one of my least favorite odors.
Not “like yesterday” but still very clear: I jogged around the corner closest to the padded grey wall under the basketball hoops. Home stretch; one more side, then I could relax.
I hit the wall. Hard. Not of my own volition. I heard a chuckle as he trotted away.
“That jerk pushed me into the wall. He’s gonna pay.” I sped after him, tomboy that I was, fully intending to pound him. Or at least give him a good punch in the shoulder. He turned, grinning. I reconsidered.
I was thirteen (he thought I was fifteen). He was sixteen. I was in ninth grade; he was in tenth. He was the sweetest, most respectful guy I’d ever met. And he had great biceps (still my favorite). No doubt in my mind: we were going to grow up and get married.
He asked me out. I said yes. We held hands.
Then I told him to go to hell.
Tell him to go to hell
I didn’t just grow up in the buckle of the Bible Belt; I lived on the prong. Everything in my life revolved around Christianity. We attended a very conservative, legalistic church. When the doors were open, we attended. I never felt a connection with anyone my age and often felt “not good enough.”
Sometime during my elementary years, a young lady visited the church wearing jeans and leather—typical 80’s style. An older lady approached her and said, “honey, you need to dress properly for church.” The girl never returned.
I knew this was wrong. By the time I met Hubby, I knew I could never invite him to our church. His family didn’t attend church (strike one) he rocked a mullet (strike two) AND he listened to ROCK MUSIC (you’re out).
None of those are Hubby, but this page could have been from our yearbook.
So then, I went to Bible camp. At camp, we learned that we should only date other Christians because then we’d have similar goals. If I wanted to go to South America as a missionary (and I did) but married a guy who didn’t see the point, things could get sticky. The speaker noted that generally you only marry people you date, so it makes sense to date people you could marry.
I was heartsick, knowing we didn’t see eye to eye. I decided to write him a letter to try to explain. Perhaps, I thought, he might decide to also be a Christian.
Being a socially inept fourteen-year-old did not help my communication. I didn’t realize how my letter came across: “hey, I just found out you’re going to hell.”
I do not recommend this as a relationship tactic.