I have gone back and forth on what to write this next post about. After much consideration, I decided to give y’all the “Why I married Ben” post.
The last three wedding posts have been about just that, the wedding day. I realize I haven’t said much about the marriage that came with the day.
Ben proposed in The Woodland’s. He pulled a ring from his back pocket when we went to ice cream and began to get down on one knee and I pulled him back up and said, “Don’t you dare get down on a knee!” I couldn’t handle people looking. My friends were hiding somewhere and snapping pictures. This boy was quoting How I Met Your Mother to me. His daughter was running around. I just wanted ice cream, and he pulls out a diamond. I said yes, after I said no (<— at no point was that no serious) because he drove me crazy. I had been dating him 7 short months (that was less than half the time of my shortest relationship), and I couldn’t even fathom the possibility of not marrying him. Why?
That man was a problem sometimes, but that man in the aviators was about to be my husband and I never questioned it, and I couldn’t have been happier.
As the engagement rolled on so did the wedding planning. We would discuss the marriage that would follow, but make no mistake, the wedding day consumed our lives. Many times I would ask to push the day back. How was I going to make this happen in 4 months? With bouts of reluctance on my end to do “wedding-y” things, the day came. I have addressed my break-downs prior to this ceremony here, here, and here. I was shoved in a room when he arrived. I was in a panic, but through the window was this man in a 3-piece gray suit and aviators walking down a sidewalk. That man had forgotten my ring in Baton Rouge. He almost didn’t get a gray suit in. He didn’t get chairs arranged to my specifications. That week on more than one occasion I wanted to strangle him with garlands of paper airplanes. Any other man I would had walked from. I have always found it rather easy to walk. That man was a problem sometimes, but that man in the aviators was about to be my husband and I never questioned it, and I couldn’t have been happier. Why?
So here we are, a week and a half in our marriage. I come home from work and I am cutting a 25 pound pork loin up to cook. I am pretty sure I threw a towel at him or something. I know I was giving him a hard time about the fence he is slaving over in our back yard. Later while he was in the shower, I stole all the towels from the bathroom I hid right behind the wall laughing as I heard him say, “I knew you were going to steal my towel!” I laughed around the corner as he went to the cabinet and I had stolen all those too. He laughed and looked at me, “you are such a pain.” Takes one to know one…I am a problem sometimes. I think I am funny. He never listens or he forgets, conveniently. He farts all the time (don’t tell him I told you this). He burns ribs. He is a problem. He thinks he is funny. Why did I marry him?
He answered that question last night about the time he was taking out the trash (without being asked).
“Ben, I am your problem for the rest of your life. How does that make you feel?”
Without skipping a beat and tying up the trash, “I can’t think of anyone else I would rather be my problem than you. Can you replace the trash bag?”
He never fails to charm me with surprising bits of charming practicality and random compliments. This is our friendship. This is our relationship. This is our marriage.
Another installment coming at you … from Ben …. on We Three Kids