My husband and I were married thirteen years ago, on the thirteenth of September, after being together for thirteen years.
We didn’t plan it that way; it was just how everything happened to align.
One of my husband’s favorite anecdotes about our getting married is that he never really asked me to marry him.
It’s true, at least in the formal, romantic proposal, actually asking me sense…
A little over a year before we were married, we attended his high school reunion in northern California. I didn’t grow up in the same community so most of the people there were strangers to me. During the event, introductions were uncomfortable since most people assumed that I was his wife. Referring to me as his “date” wasn’t at all correct, “partner” sounded stiff and business-like, and I was certainly more than a “girlfriend” (by that time we owned a home together).
On our drive home, I told him how awkward I felt because we didn’t have a simple way to define our relationship to others. That’s when he very innocently said, “Well, maybe we should think about getting married.” Silly man… I was thinking that it was about time too and, before he knew what hit him, we had a date set and wedding plans beginning to form.
I am so very grateful for my husband and the life we have built together. Although it took us thirteen years to make it official, we’ve been together for twenty-six years and I’d happily marry him again today (whether he asked me or not). God knows we can drive each other crazy at times, but the inscription on our wedding invitation thirteen years ago is still true today:
This day I will marry my friend…
The one I laugh with, dream with,
live for and love.