I feel like there’s gotta be mandatory things you need to look for in the person you eventually marry. Those things probably aren’t the things that you think about when you’re in seventh grade and writing your first name and the last names of your only two boyfriends ever and possibly Kirk Cameron and Jonathan Knight. (My choices in the latter of those two were questionable at best. I see this now.)
But then you’re at a bar one night with a pal, talking about how firm your butt is (like pals do, of course) and someone you’ve kind of been eyeing from across the way walks up to you. The first thing out of her mouth is “Aren’t you Wendy from the Internet?” and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Yep. Feel my butt. It’s really firm.”
The next thing you know, your pal has left the bar and you’re out on the smoking patio with a handful of drag queens talking to this person while her date for the evening is just standing there not really realizing what’s happening. This run-in at the bar turns into a handful of visits to dog parks, some dinner dates, and a few evenings of watching American Gladiators in my Uptown Minneapolis apartment.
Then there’s a 10 year old that’s thrown in the mix, which involves a need for a bigger place to live and a signed lease together. That new place begins to get too small and too accommodating to bats in the basement and squirrels in the wall, so you move to a house in North Minneapolis where you decide to adopt a kitten. And then you move into another house in the same neighborhood and adopt a puppy.
Five months after that, you get married. Six months after your wedding, you and this person from the bar are expecting a baby. And then a month before your 2nd wedding anniversary, you have an offer accepted on a house and you move your college kid to school a couple of weeks after that.
If you don’t have the right person through all of that, it’s seriously going to suck. When you have the right person, it’s a pretty sweet deal. When you have the right person, the terrible things don’t seem so terrible and the good things seem even better. The right person loves you when you’re too exhausted to function, when you’re jacked up to level 11, when you don’t finish things that you start and when you just won’t stop talking about work the time. The right person says “I’ll support you 100%” and you don’t doubt they mean it.
The right person teaches you and learns from you. They laugh with you and remind you where the line is between funny and absolutely not appropriate. They understand your loves and your passions and your whole slew of things that make your blood pressure shoot through the roof. When you average a major life change a year, you want to look at the person on the couch with you and be able to exhale because you know that whatever it is will work itself out as long you tackle it together.
You want to wrap up with work and be able to sink into home when you get there. That right person feels like home every second of every day. It’s this unequivocal, unparalleled feeling that you come home to because you feel safe and you feel so much love that it makes your head explode if you really try to think too much about it.
So I got all that. It’s pretty nice. I won’t be trading it for anything anytime soon. I love ya, wife of mine. We got a good thing, you and me. We’re a heckuva US. Happy anniversary.
(The traditional 2nd year gift is cotton. I’m assuming there will be cotton in the curtains being left in our new house that we close on in three days, right?)