See Three here.
This past weekend in Seattle, on the last day of our trip, Whitney brought up how crazy I had gotten right before Wes and I got engaged. And yes, I did get crazy. Crazy about waiting for something to happen that I knew was going to happen but just didn’t know when. Crazy with wondering whether it would happen before his next transfer or if there was going to be a whole big deal of Will I Move Without a Ring? Whitney, being able to gchat more than anybody I know, bore the brunt of my frustration and crazy. She did a good job of talking me off a ledge most days, but I still got Crazy.
All I can say is: I can’t wait until the table is reversed and she’s the Crazy one. Then she will understand what’s it’s like. Until then, I’ll just cop to the crazy. The fucking nuts. The constant wonder. The thinly-veiled anger when it just kept not happening.
And then it happened. And all was well with the world.
Today, November 4th, might be our last dating anniversary. Or we could have one more, depending on how the transfer pans out.
It’s weird to think that for four years I have probably only had a handful of weekends without Wes. More during the months of long-distance, but still not many. It’s weird to think back on that first meeting, when neither of us knew that any of it would end this way. To wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t relented and given Wes my number. Or if he would have been too put-off by my awkward comments about oral fixations and having to leave Santa Barbara (jokes! All of them!) and never called.
But that’s how it goes, isn’t it? Boy meets girl. Boy begs girl for her number all night. Girl finally relents and enters her number in his phone. The next day boy sneakily asks for number again because he was too drunk the night before to remember that he already had it. Girl says, “Look in your phone, you fuckin’ drunk. Four years later Boy and Girl are engaged. It’s strange how life works out.
But I couldn’t be happier about it. The fights we have are never worth ending things, and we can find our way back to each other pretty quickly. Wes’ mom, after hearing one too many jokes about divorce, reminded me that relationships are work; that it doesn’t matter how many years you’re together or married – there is no end to the work. Which I know. After living with someone in 650 sq. ft., boy do I know: it’s all work.
Sure we can’t keep the flowers outside our apartment alive (it’s the sun, I swear!), but we are tending to our relationship nicely. It will always be work. And I’m sure there will be (have been?) times where one of us wants to just slam the door and walk out and never look back. But that’s not going to happen (save for some pretty serious transgressions). No matter what happens, we’ll find (fight?) our way back to each other. We didn’t cultivate this relationship for the past four years just to let it die once it’s official.
We’re looking forward to finally planning this wedding. To celebrate with our friends and family. To dance the night away. To be a husband and a wife (seriously, I’m sick of saying fiance – I sort of want to punch myself in the face every time I do).