Anniversary
May. 24th, 2004 08:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleaI am very lucky in my marriage.
Have been reading "The Bitch in the House" and my reactions to the essays are three: "oh honey, I hope the clue fairy sprinkles pixie dust in your cornflakes soon"; "well, you seem to know yourself, but boy are you not from Planet Flea"; and "oh, um. yeah. that's me."
More than 8 years ago I met mr. flea in the library at the University of Cincinnati. Tonight I toasted UC and the Apple corporation, makers of the laptop that led me to claim a seat at the already occupied table (I thought, occupied by a German graduate student, for some reason!) because it had a plug handy.
That summer we'd been dating 3 months, and I was working in Israel, and I talked him into getting a passport and leaving the country for the first time, and we spent 10 days, and it was like our honeymoon.
We moved in together that Christmas, spent a couple of months working out the kinks of cohabitating - mostly to do with stereotypes about housework - and settled in.
We got married for our parents, and because I was planning to spend a year in Greece, and we thought it would be easier if we were married. (It could hardly have been harder, as it turned out, but we survived.) We already felt married when we married. There was never even a real proposal - one night we were talking before falling asleep, in bed, in our underwear, and he said "Will you marry me someday?" And I said "yes," and we didn't speak of it for another couple of months, and then we just sort of evolved in that direction.
He is my best friend, my partner, my family. I can't imagine life without him. I can hardly remember life without him.
All this from a woman who had never seriously dated anyone when I met him at 23, and thought for sure I would be single my whole life. I had it all planned. Love intervened. It's the only thing that's ever happened to me that makes me believe in a deity even the slightest little bit.
Have been reading "The Bitch in the House" and my reactions to the essays are three: "oh honey, I hope the clue fairy sprinkles pixie dust in your cornflakes soon"; "well, you seem to know yourself, but boy are you not from Planet Flea"; and "oh, um. yeah. that's me."
More than 8 years ago I met mr. flea in the library at the University of Cincinnati. Tonight I toasted UC and the Apple corporation, makers of the laptop that led me to claim a seat at the already occupied table (I thought, occupied by a German graduate student, for some reason!) because it had a plug handy.
That summer we'd been dating 3 months, and I was working in Israel, and I talked him into getting a passport and leaving the country for the first time, and we spent 10 days, and it was like our honeymoon.
We moved in together that Christmas, spent a couple of months working out the kinks of cohabitating - mostly to do with stereotypes about housework - and settled in.
We got married for our parents, and because I was planning to spend a year in Greece, and we thought it would be easier if we were married. (It could hardly have been harder, as it turned out, but we survived.) We already felt married when we married. There was never even a real proposal - one night we were talking before falling asleep, in bed, in our underwear, and he said "Will you marry me someday?" And I said "yes," and we didn't speak of it for another couple of months, and then we just sort of evolved in that direction.
He is my best friend, my partner, my family. I can't imagine life without him. I can hardly remember life without him.
All this from a woman who had never seriously dated anyone when I met him at 23, and thought for sure I would be single my whole life. I had it all planned. Love intervened. It's the only thing that's ever happened to me that makes me believe in a deity even the slightest little bit.
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no subject
Date: 2004-05-25 02:03 am (UTC)