If You Ever Fall In Love...

Today I was browsing my Facebook feed and came across this little gem:

Now many of you know that I am married with kids and we are celebrating a 20 year old relationship this year, 15 of those years married. We are having a wedding blessing. We originally married in a registry office, with minimum fuss and frill. I am a Christian and my husband is a non-believer. We couldn't afford the big party then, and we promised ourselves the 'do' in years to come. Well, it took 15 of them, but we are finally in a place where we can let our hair down. We have chosen a church blessing, and when we were told that this counts as a wedding, not a renewal of vows, as we never married in church, it seemed like a good opportunity to go all out. So I am in the midst of menu choices, dress fittings, meetings with photographers and music rehearsals. I am browsing the internet for original garter ideas when this quote catches my eye. I stop and read it, and my first thought is not the requisite 'awwwwww'. I can't help thinking what a load of BS it is. This, this is the kind of stuff that's wrong with society today.

I love my husband. And my husband loves me. How can I tell? Well, those of you who know him may well indeed wonder as we are, to the outside observer, chalk and cheese. He does not care what my favourite colour is. He knows how I like my coffee, but then so does the girl down my local cafe. He makes me laugh, sure, but at any cost? And I just cannot imagine him doing anything so soppy as listening to my heart beat. Unless I made him, to check for arrhythmia, for example. He will kiss me in public after maybe three beers. Proud of me? I am not his trained dog.

Afraid to fall in love? You should be! Love hurts, and if it doesn't, you are doing it wrong. I love my son and my daughter. My daughter is much easier to dislike than my son, but my son is harder to love than my daughter. He is, in fact, very like his father, and does not 'do' emotion. No hugs, no kisses goodnight. Loving him is like sailing on smooth seas. Nothing happens. My daughter, on the other hand, is a never-ending storm looking for an ecosystem to devastate. Lighting ready to strike. I spend a goodly amount of time screaming at her and being mentally and physically abused by her. But when the sun comes out we bathe in a metaphorical love light. Love is warming, it's glorious, it's impossible to look at directly and if you don't protect yourself, it will have a go at killing you. My husband does not want to hurt me, but sometimes he does. Sometimes there are things that need saying or doing that will hurt.

 

He most definitely does not think I'm perfect. Which is a good flipping job, as I would just let him if he did. I need encouragement and honesty to grow as a person. After 20 years, I am still growing into this relationship. He is not perfect. He leaves empty tins on the kitchen side, he doesn't check if the kids have cleaned their teeth and he cannot say 'I love you' unless drunk or held in an arm lock.

The only part of this quote I agree with is the last line. The day you look at your sleeping partner and wish they weren't there, that is the day to worry. I might wish that he wasn't snoring in that manner, or that he hadn't stolen all the covers. I might even wish he had less of a beer belly, or notice a few grey hairs, but I cannot remember a single moment, in the 19 years, 7 months, 29 days and 15 or so hours since we met, that I have not wanted him there where I can find him whenever I need him. And I need him always. Without him I could not raise our children. I could not believe in myself enough without his constant silent support to achieve the things that I do. I would not make rational decisions and I would not be happy. He is not a talker. He is not demonstrative. There have been times when I have questioned his love. Arguing with him is like throwing stones down a well; your shouts get swallowed up in his bottomless depths of anti-noise. You're not even sure if he heard you. If he disagrees with you, he does not argue his point, he just carries on as if you never spoke. Infuriating? You bet! But I know he loves me, simply because he is still there, every morning, when I wake up.

Photograph: Chloé Ophelia: byopheliaphotos.wordpress.com/author/chloeophelia

We have weathered two children, family splits, getting into debt, not knowing how we are going to manage until the next paycheck. Moving house, moving country, changing careers. We have stood by each other when one of us makes a rash decision and walks out of a job (we've both done it!) with nothing else to go to. We still sit on the sofa together, in whatever part that is not covered in child, mess or animal that can fit both of us in. We kiss each day when one of us goes to work. Simply put, neither one of us could imagine daily life without the other. Love is work. Love is hard work. It does not come naturally; it does not heal all ills. Just like anything in this life, you get out what you put in. There will be ups and downs. But what it takes is honesty, commitment, vulnerability and not least, an ability to laugh at yourself. This blessing is more important to us than the marriage was. We were simply legalizing a commitment already made in private then. Now, we are celebrating 20 years of history; celebrating our children; celebrating our achievements and celebrating with the people that we have built our life with. As I walk down the aisle I will be collecting flowers from my guests to make a ‘truly unique' bouquet. That bouquet is my life with my love. A mishmash of events, ideas, emotions, different colours, different styles. Some of those flowers require careful handling and some will grow in cracks in pavements. It will be big, colourful, overflowing and glorious, just like our life.

My husband doesn't know my favourite colours, but he has shown me how to look at all the colours in a different light. He doesn't make me coffee, but he will make me a Long Island ice tea if I ask him to. He doesn't stare into my eyes, but he took the dodgy poem I wrote for a reading and rewrote it properly, then made me cry when he read it out loud to me. He doesn't kiss me in public, but he holds my hand when I have a decision to make. He makes me terrified of love and addicted to it at the same time. He hurts me when he doesn't notice something new, or ask how it went when something important happens and he will give you a list if you ask him for my flaws. But he will look after the kids if I go out without him, no questions asked. He will always leave the lamp on for me when I'm working nights. He checks the oil in the car. He will cook dinner if I ask him to. I am convinced that he loves me and I don't need him to tell me. I may be one of the lucky ones, but I can tell you that if I had waited around on that well meaning quote's instructions, I would still be waiting. And I don't think I'd be very happy about it.