Fifteen years. Jonno and I have been together 15 years, today.
I’m terrible at talking about our marriage. Partially because I’m embarrassed by it.
I’m embarrassed because I feel lucky, like I stumbled into it. I feel like that guy in the casino — you’ve heard stories like this, right? — who’s waiting for a friend to come out of the bathroom, half-heartedly drops a quarter into a slot machine, and walks away a million dollars richer, while the retirees who’ve been plugging away at every other machine in the place turn and scowl.
Except the difference is, if I were the guy in the casino, I’d share my winnings with those around me, share the luck. I can’t do that with Jonno. Well, not in the same way.
I’m also embarrassed because, by all rights, our marriage shouldn’t work. Like a bumblebee, if you look at it logically, it makes no sense. The prosecution presents the following evidence:
- I’m a Southerner; he’s a Yankee.
- I like small towns; he prefers big cities (Provincetown excepted).
- I like staying put; he loves traveling.
- I like spending Saturdays at home with the hounds; he’d rather get out and do something new.
- I hate shopping; he enjoys few things better.
- I like theatre; he likes museums.
- I’m in bed by 10pm; he’s at his best when the sun goes down.
- I’m left-brain practical; he’s right-brain visceral.
The list, it goes on and on.
But the amazing and wonderful thing about love, I suppose, is that none of that matters. I don’t know what love depends on — attraction, trust, friendship? — but it definitely isn’t logic.
Fifteen years (and one official marriage ceremony) later, and I know no more than I did when I started. But it’s nice to be here.
Happy anniversary, Jonno. I love you as much as I did then. Even before then.
5 thoughts on “Where Does The Time Go?”
Thanks for making me all teary eyed before I’ve even has breakfast! You two rock. Happy manniversary!
Congrats to you both!
Following you guys almost since then via Blogger!