But being married to a good man is still a challenge. Living with anyone day in and day out is hard. And truth be told, I am not a huge believer in marriage. I actually don't believe in it as an institution at all.
But, I am a big believer in love. Lasting, enduring love. The kind that requires no flowers, music or romance. The kind that allows for the other person to grow and change even when it is difficult. The kind that is accepting and devoted.
I have that love. That kind. Not the one in the movies, or the one every little girl dreams about, but the kind that lasts. This is the kind of love that gets you through it all.
When I am wounded, it's Mark I want. When I am sad or angry, it's him. It's his hand I want to hold, his arms I want around me. It's his voice I love to hear, and it's his heart that holds mine. And I can't see that changing. Ever.
No, it's not perfect. He is a pain in the ass. And as much of a pain in the ass that he is, I can be worse. But we are okay with each other. We have times we don't connect, but we don't panic. We ride it out, and soon enough, it all falls back in to place. Sometimes I look at him and love him so much it hurts, and sometimes I look at him and want to hurt him.
That's love.
So today, it's been 9 years since we met. It's been 5 years since we married. But what we are really celebrating today is the fact that for 9 years we have loved each other. That we still laugh together until we pee ourselves. That we have picked on each other, laughed at each other, and given each other wedgies. We have had massive fights and marathon make-ups. We have given even when the other did not give back. We have held tight through pain and anguish.
And here we are, still in love. And that's the real celebration- not the years, not the marriage- but the love that endures through it all.
Mark, I love you, even though you are a punk. Here's to the next 50 years.
