Some days, I look at the calendar and I’m just stunned.
It’s been a decade. A full 10 years of marriage, when 11 years ago, I was pretty firmly convinced I’d never get married again.
What’s the saying, “Man plans. God laughs.” I’m not sure God was laughing but I certainly didn’t see the ace up His sleeve, lemme tell ya.
Oh, it wasn’t like John fell out of the sky, some random stranger I just happened to “click with.” We’d known each other online for years, which is why I never pooh pooh the online match things. We weren’t close, but I knew who he was, and since we were both on a Usenet (how’s that for ancient history, huh?) board dedicated to Robert A. Heinlein, we at least had something in common.
Life, for me, had been… interesting. You know, in the Chinese curse sense of the word.
I married at 21, and was divorced at 26. There were good and bad reasons for that divorce, and my ex is currently much happier than when we were married and I’m grateful for that.
Joined the Army at 24, got out at 28.
I moved to Texas with the guy I was dating. We’ll just say it was a disasterpiece and move on from there, okay?
Proving incontrovertibly that the Army really does give you some form or brain damage, I joined the National Guard. I broke up with the boyfriend.
Aaaaaand then I met John, In Real Life.
That’s what things got interesting in a good way, and life has been amazing ever since.
I can honestly say that my marriage has been the hardest thing I have ever done, and brought me the most joy.