One ring to rule them all...

As an addendum to last week's post about Husband and my beginning, I thought I would include a story about how we came to be married to one another: The Proposal.

I had just finished my sophomore/junior year at Dinky College and Husband and I decided to spend some time in the Biggest City Within 50 Miles that fateful June Saturday. It seemed like any other outing. We made the rounds and dined at O'Charley's with Diosthocles and his baby brother. Apparently, when I felt the call of nature and excused myself to the restroom, Husband whipped out his Precious from his cargo shorts and told the two of his plans (they were the only people to know when he would actually propose). He'd had the ring for a little while and had visited my parents to ask for their blessing several days before, unbeknownst to me (yeah, he's an old fashioned fella). I'm sure keeping that news quiet about did my talkative Mother in, but she succeeded and I was completely clueless, as I usually am.

In addition to being completely clueless, when it comes to Husband, I am also extremely gullible. On our drive home, at sunset, he suddenly said his car was acting up and losing acceleration (of course, he just took his foot off the gas pedal). He pulled off the main road onto the side of a quiet gravel road. I got all nervous and asked if he wanted me to call my Dad to come help, but he said he had the proper equipment in his trunk and that this had happened before. Here's the worst gullible part:

Husband had gotten me a small diamond ring for Christmas a year or so before. I always wore it on my left ring finger because it didn't get in the way as much on that hand. So, while Husband opened his trunk and walked to the rear of the car, he told me he needed me to look at the hot engine under the open hood, so I should take off all of my jewelry (uhm...so it didn't melt to my body?). I complied, taking off all of my jewelry (oh, yes, earrings included) and walked to the front of the car.

Then, Husband walked up and knelt on one knee. To be completely honest, my brain went into shock and I have absolutely no memory of what he said, aside from him addressing me by my full name. My memory jumpstarts again with me crying and answering with, "Yes."

We got back in the car, I put my earrings back on, and ogled the lovely ring he had offered me. We went to my parents' house first to tell them the good news (my Mother was, understandably, relieved to have her gag order lifted). On the way to tell Husband's parents, we called those nearest and dearest to us, repeating the story of Husband's improptu, perfect proposal. And THAT'S all she wrote.

My One and Only

Yesterday, September 18, marked the six-year anniversary of Husband and my relationship. Perhaps I should start from the beginning?

Husband was a senior at Middle-of-the-Cornfields High School when I was a freshman. He claims to have thought I was cute and tried to talk to me at that time, but one of my only memories of him from that year is when he played a scary Russian policeman in Fiddler on the Roof while I played the second youngest daughter, Shprintze. We also performed together in front of the local elementary students in The Princess and the Pea that spring. He was the king, and I was the princess.

Forward two years.

We begin chatting online, getting to know one another slowly over the months. Finally, I got up the courage to go on a date with him, live and in person. Turns out, I liked him better that way. After a few more dates, near-death experiences in my car (he is very brave), and evenings spent watching movies (or me falling asleep during movies on his shoulder) at each others' homes, he suggested we become exclusive. And, I guess, that's all she wrote.

Husband is my first sweaty hand hold, my first "I Love You," my first kiss; Husband is my first everything. When I explain our history in person, I always feel the need to justify and defend why it was okay for me not to take a break from the person that forever changed my life just to experience other boyfriends. However, this is my blog, and I don't have to defend anything to anyone. Sometimes, you just get it right the first time; We did. We have six years of proof that we're the right match for one another. I'm expecting about seventy more.

First Anniversary

July 14 signifies Husband and my first anniversary as a married couple. We made it through an entire year without one suffocating the other with a pillow as he or she slept, without any police intervention whatsoever, and without seriously contemplating divorce. Many people say that the first year of marriage is the hardest. Others disagree and say that they hit their rough patch several years after that blissful honeymoon period. I don't know if a difficult time of disagreements is coming, but it certainly has not been during this past year.

During our first year of marriage, Husband and my living situation was quite unique and a bit sadistic: we were forced to spend almost the entire year locked together in a one-room home. If he was playing Grand Theft Auto IV, I was three feet away watching television. If he was pounding away on his oversized, loudly whizzing computer, I was three feet away watching television. If he was sitting on the bed playing his DS...well, you get the idea...I watched a lot of television and our room allowed for about three feet of personal space... Still, he commuted about an hour to work both coming and going and I didn't feel I got to see enough of him until we started working at the same Big, Fancy University.

We don't always agree, but we can always come to a compromise. He doesn't always complete tasks on my time schedule, but everything always gets done. I am not always calm, cool, and collected (okay, I'm rather anal about...everything), but he can always make me laugh and remember to breathe deeply and enjoy the moment.

So thank you, Husband, for making me feel like the best wife in the world, even when I'm not acting like it. I love you very much; here's to a countless number of years that are ahead of us. I can't wait to experience them with you.