Going on only my third month of marriage, I’m still constantly learning more about what it means after you say the words “I do.” I hear and have seen so many horror stories, and then I see an old married couple holding hands or my married friends who have been together for 10 years still have that sparkle…and It’s like I see both sides of the whole for better, for worse deal. I’m not sure which one we’ll be 50 years from now, but I can’t imagine ever not being happy with the dude, for whatever that’s worth. I don’t know much about marriage, obviously. I’m twenty and a newlywed. But I’ve definitely been taking notes lately. Last night, we had a few friends over.A fun night intermingling friends, mostly my friends. But it kind of dawned on me, they’re not just my friends anymore. Not just his friends either. I think part of this marriage deal is they become our friends.
Let me show you:
Last night got me really thinking about this blog. Having friends over, different groups and all. We had a really fun night last night. A little too much fun. Alcohol is such a great indicator of real feelings isn’t it? I especially seem to find more about who really reads my blog too. Last night Kati was mentioning it and then Bing (husband’s friend) even mentioned reading occasionally. I know I make my blogs super public but it surprises me a little every time someone mentions reading. Also, I love listening to guy talk. I even got an 8 out of 10 in coolness level via Bing and the husband. Ha. Apparently it’s impossible for a girl to get a 10 and a girl only good for sex can only get up to a six (men..)… so I’m doing pretty well for myself, eh?
Back to what I’m getting at here. Every moment, memory, laugh, cry,…it’s ours now. I have this independent streak so this is slowly sinking in and I’m slowly accepting it. What’s mine is his, His is mine. Is that where so many relationships go wrong? They can share the good but not the bad? The chuckles and not the tears, the nice old grandma but not the smelly uncle? The past but not the parts you don’t want to hear about? The living space but not the bank accounts? It’s true, as hard as I try, can’t bring myself to share some things, and it’s caused a few tiffs. But when you marry, you’re not just marrying the dude/chick you married. You’re marrying a hell of a lot more than that. You’re marrying their weird habits, the funny way they talk, the sailor mouth a girl probably shouldn’t have. You’re marrying their mistakes, zombie games, hurts, likes, dislikes, their ego, their wallet, their middle school crush reminiscences , their enemies, their tv-shows. You’re marrying their family, the whole family, even creepy uncle Tom. (Neither of us actually have a creepy uncle Tom, if you’re wondering) You’re marrying their wants, dreams, the fact that they can never ever get out of the door on time. You’re marrying the friend, or a few friends, who get a little too crazy one night. You’re marrying present scars, future wrinkles, today’s stinky feet. You’re marrying tons of yelling and screaming and annoyances and eye rolls. You’re marrying millions of laughs and tears, and double the moments that take your breath away. You’re marrying the fact that I’m by nature a little too flirty, or that he can never shut up when I’m listening to a song in the car. You’re marrying their grudges, their shortcomings, their hates, loves, their past, the good, the bad, and the ugly. When you commit to this marriage thing you’re committing to not just the person but who they are, who they were, who they will be, and every little detail in between. There’s not really any other way around it. And yes, it’s hard sometimes. But for the most part, I love sharing everything with him. I hate sharing. This must mean something.