The First Anniversary

One year.

In some ways, our first year of marriage absolutely flew by. No way it’s been twelve months since we got married. I remember the day as if it happened last week, partly because I intentionally tried to live the day in the moment and remember as much of it as possible.

We got married thirteen months after meeting one another. We’ve only known each other a little over two years, and yet it seems like we’ve already spent a lifetime together. We both felt like we’d known each other ten years during our first date. That feeling hasn’t changed. Of course, we constantly learn new things about one another.

If I had to choose one word to describe our first year of marriage, I’d probably say “fun.” We have always enjoyed each other’s company, and we both feel like we probably fell in love on our first date. I know that sounds cliché and hearing someone say that three years ago would’ve made me want to throw up. But, it happened fast. Within a week of knowing each other, we were texting, “I like you” to each other at least six times a day. We were both scared to use the word love because we didn’t want to scare each other away.

Three or four months after we started dating, Andrew said, “I love you,” while we were hanging out at his apartment. For weeks before he said it, I wondered if it was too soon to say it to him. I journaled about it. Three months is too fast to know if you’re in love with someone, right? I wrestled with it.

If someone were to ask me when I knew I loved Andrew, I would give them three answers:

1. Within a week of knowing each other and texting each other every day, Andrew texted, “Me, too.” My mom and a handful of authors are the only people I know (besides myself) who use comma too, which is grammatically correct. I thought, “Oh, man. This guy is different. I’m holding onto him.” Love? Maybe. Grammar is a good way to my heart.
2. All through my dating years, if I had dates on Saturdays or Sundays, I couldn’t wait to leave the date and go hang out with my family. Family always came first. I’m pretty sure I canceled a couple dates because I wanted to hang out with my family instead of going on a date any given weekend. Andrew and I met at 9:00 on a Saturday morning. I had plans to take my dogs over to my parents that day. I thought, “Well, the date should last about an hour or so, and then I can go to my parents.” Andrew and I talked and talked and talked. I eventually had to get up to use the restroom. I looked at my watch on the way there, and it was already 2:00 pm. Uh. I checked my messages and my mom had texted asking if everything was okay and if I thought I’d still come over. I went back out and told Andrew my parents were expecting me. I sat back down and we talked for a little while longer. Until 4:00. We only left because we were both hungry. From that moment on, a switch had been flipped, and I didn’t feel torn between a guy and my family. I didn’t mind spending less time with my family if it meant more time with Andrew. Those feelings were so polar opposite to any I’d ever felt for a guy, I knew it was something akin to love. While dating, I missed him as soon as we parted company. Even still, when I’m at my parents, I sometimes miss him so much, I just randomly decide to leave so I can be with him. Is this love?
3. We were hanging out at my house two or three months after we started dating, and Andrew half joked about dying in his mid-thirties. I just about lost it. I hugged him and tried not to cry. I had never felt that strongly about a guy before. The thought of not having a guy I was dating in my life had never made me emotional. Oh, so this is love. That night, he also said, “I want to use the L word, but I feel like it’s too soon.” Me, too. Me, too.

All of my answers for when I knew I loved Andrew happened at least a month before he said it to me. And when he said it to me (even though I already knew he felt it, and I knew I loved him back), I was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t say anything. I think I cried. I knew I loved him and that my feelings for him were so beyond anything I’ve ever felt for a man. I felt so vulnerable in the moment, and I couldn’t articulate it back to him. Poor guy. I’m sure he was very confused. I said it a few days later, after I found some bravery. He likes to give me a hard time about me not saying it back to him right away, as he should. He thinks I probably felt it before him, but he was braver than me and said it first, so he wins that battle.

Now, we say or text “I love you” to each other a dozen or more times a day. At some point, I started to say, “I love you to the moon and back 73 bazillion times.” That’s a lot. One time, I was pretending to be mad at him about something and said, “I love you to the moon and back 73 bazillion times, minus one.” So now, that’s how we tell each other how much we love one another.

Part of my reluctance to say it so early on was the fear saying it would cheapen the feeling. Unfounded. The feelings only deepened after we started saying it, and the feelings grow deeper still.

Make no mistake, we also fight. There have only been a handful of times a fight has lasted more than a day (and the ones that did only lasted longer because I avoided talking about how I was feeling—a common theme when we have conflict). We’ve both gotten better at airing things out soon after conflict arises. We are both very intentional with our language when we are in conflict, and as of yet, we’ve never said anything to make the other question our feelings. We don’t get ugly. We try to find common ground where we can. The good days far outnumber the days we sometimes fought.

It’s amazing how much we like and love each other. I thought these feelings were the things of fiction, or something that could only happen to other people. Never me. I didn’t believe I was capable of loving someone so much, or being the type of person someone else could love so ardently.

But here we are.

Here’s to many more fun years.