It’s Been Thirty-Five Years

This coming Monday. It will be my 35 year wedding anniversary.

We eloped. And got married in a little blue church. And on Monday those vows will have been in existence for thirty years. It’s almost unbelievable.

It’s not all ups. There are tons of downs.

It’s about perseverance and grit.

And love.

The everyday kinda of love. The every way kind of love. It’s making love both a verb and a noun. It’s about showing up everyday. Rain or shine. Mostly in rain. Because when it’s sunny you always want to be there. It’s also finding something in showing on rainy days.

Writing about love and sex is impacted by experiences of real life. There is a joy in knowing all the nuances of an adult relationship. And being able to convey on the page to others. There is a fullness to a love interest which has developed over decades and not days or months. A rich tapestry that maybe isn’t in a shorter lived entwining.

Is there a secret to a relationships longevity? I’m not sure. I think I’m just a bitch who doesn’t like to admit defeat. About anything. Most especially about my life partner choice. Because he’s the bomb. Don’t think I’m the only one showing everyday. Nope, he does, too. And it has to be that way or it doesn’t work correctly. You can’t have just one person in a two person tango being the sole wanter of the dance’s success. You need them both to care. Deeply.

Or it could be that I supported him and he supported me. As long as you can afford it and it doesn’t go against your morals, when your partner wants something… you should just say yes. You should be the facilitator of your spouse’s ability to dream and strive and try stuff. Not the person harshing the mellow. If you can’t afford it, say no. If it’s immoral, say no. Otherwise. say yes. Why not? And why would you be anything other than totally supportive if it’s not a financial burden and it’s not a bad thing.

I don’t have huge amounts of words for detailing why we’ve made it when so many others haven’t. But we have. And if the last thirty years are any indication, I’m pretty confident if I live another thirty years, it will be with him. He just rocks like that. And we fit. But that could be because we grew up together and became adults married. Or it just could be that he has a nice ass.

30 Year Anniversary

Yes, someone married me.

And yes, we’ve been married for 30 years this year. October 16, to be exact. He deserves to be canonized. Seriously. He’s a saint. But then again, so am I.

Our marriage has matured with the both of us. I can’t remember a time he wasn’t in my life. We’ve been married for all of our adult lives. Which is pretty cool. And presents a problem or two.

He got to watch me grow up. With all the growing pains that entails. Sometimes, I feel jealous of couples who significant other only saw them mature or at their best. Mine got to see me at my worst, as I figured things out, as I matured into my adult self. And I got to see that for him as well.

Has it been easy? Umm, yeah no.

Our relationship was maturing along with us. Going through it’s own growing pains. The ups. The downs. Figuring things out. Forming the marriage into something good and beneficial for us both.

Am I grateful? So much.

I couldn’t imagine going through cancer with another human being. He’s been a rock. And so supportive he gives it new meaning. My recovery from cancer and the treatments that kill cancer- and me- has been smooth because of his unwavering support. Plus, he loves me and my new body. He loved me and my old body. He just loves me.

You can’t know what it means to hit 30 years with the man I have. It’s exciting, comforting, and so fucking awesome. He’s so fucking awesome.

And no matter what, it’s still the two of us against the world.

Here’s to 30 more. If my body is willing! I’d love 30 more.