“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s going to be really hard; we’re gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday. You and me… everyday.”
–Nicholas Sparks : “The Notebook”
Ten years ago, on the 16th of April 2003, with my best friend at the time in tow, I met up with the quietest boy in school outside the local chippy. Classy, I know. Even classier is that I remember exactly what i was wearing…. Adidas joggies and that bloody Topshop denim jacket (see the same jacket in action here: http://wp.me/p3hjKu-5q) I was such a catch. He leaned in for a kiss – with my best friend still standing right beside me, obviously – and managed to miss my face completely and land somewhere between my ear, my hair, and the window of the chippy.
This belter of a boy, you lovely folk, is now my husband.
The scary thing is, from that moment where he kissed the chippy window, I knew I would marry him. (No standards at this point you see.) I knew that no matter what happened, this quiet, acne riddled, Berghaus jacket wearing teenager would one day be my husband. Fate, i suppose. Or karma.
Fast forward ten years through several break ups, a million tears, two babies (SURPRISE!) and a bloody amazing wedding…and here we are. We are nearing the finish line of our first year of marriage. And how is married life?
Filled with daily threats of divorce…..(i joke…..maybe)
I love the security of being married; of being a MRS. I love knowing that I will be with this man forever – till death do us part (then i get a rest hopefully!). I love finally having the same surname as my two boys. I love dropping the “yes, my husband does that..” card into totally inappropriate sentences, just because I can. I love flashing my wedding ring at old women who judge me the minute they see me with the two boys. I love proving people wrong – because we actually did make it. I love knowing that I married my best friend.
On the other hand…
I bloody hate sharing a bed. He sweats and snores and knowing this is forever gives a new-found respect and understanding to the 1950’s rule of separate beds. I hate how whatever money I spend has to be explained because it’s now “our” money. I hate how any decision, whether it be to do with the boys/house/money/work has to be made as some kind of team – even though we both know that in the end I’m always right. I hate how our arguments have went from what pub we’re going to, to what toilet paper I buy (and which he uses far too much of!)
But know what I hate most of all?
The rapid expansion of my waist/backside/face the minute that ring was put on my already rather voluptuous finger.
Bloody men. Bloody marriage.
The Southside Girl x