In case you missed Part 1, you can read it here!
Recently, some juicy bit of celebrity relationship gossip
flashed across my Facebook newsfeed and, as is often the case, it started me
down a path of deliberating on the important things in life; like my marriage
and why it’s awesome.
After a solid 10-15 minutes of devotion to my thoughts, I
started browsing Pinterest and lost track of them.
The thoughts stuck with me and I started taking more careful notice of the events that
happened with such ease in my marriage – and more importantly why it is so
sincerely important that they continue to happen with ease.
I began to pick apart the keys to my happiness. Why does our
relationship work? Spoiler
Alert: I have no ever lovin’ idea.
While there is no secret recipe for success, having a marriage that lasts isn’t
a total shot in the dark, either.
At its onset, my relationship had what some people may call,
“a snowball's chance in Hell” in resulting in a marriage – let alone one that
will last forever. I bet there was at least one person in attendance at my
wedding that thought (and maybe still thinks) we were destined for divorce.
But we are married – ‘til death do us part.
|Married! At the ripe ol' age of 21. |
|Senior Prom. My Mom-Mom made my dress.|
When Aaron and I met, we were seniors in high school.
Mature, worldly, smart, good decision making, 17 year olds. We were totally good
friends for , like, AT LEAST 3 or 4 weeks before we started making out – a
solid friendship foundation is of the utmost importance. Both of us were
packing the, “serious relationship knowledge” arsenal of… well… 17 year olds.
We dove in.
The. Very. Best. Decision. I’ve. EVER. Made.
I mean that with all of the emphasis one-word sentences can
convey. Probably more.
Looking back as objectively as one can look back on their
own life, it makes very little
logical sense that Aaron and I are very happily married. Anyone who
knows me, knows I am never without a plan; because uncertainty gives me anxiety,
not because I’m smart.
Aaron entered my life at a point where my plan was as
- Get into Parsons School of Design.
- Live in New York for 4 years (it’ll totally be
like FRIENDS) while studying photography and taking the best photographs
ever seen. I’ll definitely be able to make money part-time this way.
- Graduate and be a fashion photographer or
maybe a photographer that works on the set of SNL.
- Be fabulous at one of the aforementioned jobs.
- Get married when I’m 30, yup, 30 is good.
I’m not EVEN bending the truth here at all, folks. I very
literally had decided that the above list of 5 points was how my life would go.
It was probably written down somewhere – that’s how I knew it was a good plan.
It still makes me proud to this day that I totally nailed #1 on that list. The
rest went to shit pretty immediately after I moved to New York.
|Aaron and I before our "Senior Dinner" shortly after we starting dating.|
|After our graduation in an over crowded un-air-conditioned gym. Niki with the photo bomb before it was cool. |
|View from my very temporary NYC bedroom.|
Aaron and I had decided that after FOUR (seriously!?) months of dating that we
would stay together – long-distance will work (said no one, ever)! I packed up
and said goodbye to Aaron (thinking of that morning still makes me want to
vomit), and everything else I’ve known, and drove with my parents in my Mom’s conversion
van to the city that never sleeps.
I moved into a BEAUTIFUL, brand new, dorm apartment building
that was supposed to be for upper classmen and graduate students. Somehow, me
and two other doe-eyed freshmen got lucky and ended up in an 8th floor apartment
with unobstructed views of the Empire State Building. There were 4 other (yes
SEVEN total) girls that split the three bedrooms, full kitchen and living room.
Despite the fact that living with 6 other people sounds like a nightmare, I
felt pretty awesome – until I didn’t. I’ll spare you all of the
crying-while-walking-down-the-street-details and cut to 6 weeks into the
semester when I’m calling my mom and writing my dad a letter explaining why
they need to drive back to New York City and bring me and the contents of my
8th floor apartment HOME!
For the record, my dad called me immediately upon reading
the letter and said, “Why didn’t you just call me? You could be home already. If you are unhappy – whatever the
reason – I will come get you right now.” A couple of points worth mentioning
- I was afraid of disappointing my dad because I
wasn’t following through – that was self created, I came to discover.
- I’m certain that my dad knew I was coming home
because of my high school boyfriend of 6 months – regardless of whatever
other nonsense I wrote in that letter.
Stay tuned for part 3!
Labels: life in love, love, married life, memories, nostalgia