When I was 17, I swore to myself that I would never, ever, ever marry my high school sweetheart. “People who do,” I told my haughty seventeen-year-old self, “are asking for a divorce.”
At that point in my life, I’d just met Tim, who was this sweet, shy guy who sat behind me in our snooze-worthy high school leadership class. I had absolutely no intention of marrying him at the time, but he had every intention of marrying me, and he made it known.
(To say he came on a bit strong in the beginning is an understatement.)
Nonetheless, I liked him. He learned to cool down, and I learned to open up, and after a few months we found ourselves in one of them thar Serious Relationships.
Proposals became something of an in-joke between us. “What do you want for dinner tonight? And oh, hey, wanna marry me?” We’ve always talked about our future together, but the marriage part was mostly a formality.
Well, when you buy a house together, you start to see where certain formalities come in handy.
So a few weeks ago, when Tim off-handedly popped the question for the three-billionth time, I turned to him and said, “Sure, let’s do it!”… I think he was surprised, to say the least.
All this to say, yes, I’m marrying my high school sweetheart.
As I’ve told people the big news, I’ve found it’s best to follow up with “and-no-I’m-not-pregnant,” because apparently you can’t plan a wedding at the last minute without getting knocked up first. Oops! Sorry to disappoint, but we’re skipping the knocked-up part for now and going straight to the wedding.
I know, I know, we’re so unconventional!
We’re having a small ceremony with family and friends, after we’ve moved into the new house (because the moving thing alone isn’t stressful enough in its own right, and we do love a challenge). It will be simple and quiet, and I’m really looking forward to it.