You know, I haven’t actually been to a wedding as a married person.
Those few weddings I attended when I was young and single were beautiful and romantic and all that jazz. They really were. But there was something going on between all of the married guests that I just wasn’t a part of. It was over my head.
Now that I am an old, married lady myself, I’d like to enlighten those of you who are considering getting in on this wonderful thing called marriage — while there’s still time to get out!
To truly understand where I’m coming from with all of this, I have to start at the beginning. It was the mid 90s. I was a freshman in high school. Mr. Sew Old School “asked me out.” (That’s how we used to say it back then, remember?) I flat-out said no.
Still the mid 90s. I was a sophomore in high school. Matt asks again. I quickly say no for a second time.
And still the mid 90s. I was a junior in high school. I must have gotten beat down a little bit from the first two years, because this time, when Matt asked, I said yes.
And that’s when the ball really started rolling.
We dated for years — and years and years. We moved to Florida, drove across the country in a standard cab pickup truck, lived in a cabin at a campground, had a shabby basement apartment furnished with hand-me-downs, and took turns going to college. We lived by our own rules, and we had a blast doing it!
As we approached our late twenties, I wanted to settle down and get married. Matt, reluctantly, agreed. Ha!
We had lived together so long prior to marriage that I hadn’t really noticed how this practical joke was brewing. But, looking back, it was definitely a-brewin.’ I already cooked every night, packed lunches for work, and did the food shopping.
But after we eloped to St. Lucia (which was awesome, by the way!) and returned home, I could see what was going on.
“Honey, do we have any towels in this house?”
Yes, this question would be asked as Matt was already in the shower and wanting to get out. I would think, seriously, who does this? Am I the only person who looks for a towel before hopping in?
I would nicely respond, “Yes, we do. They’re in the spot where we always keep the clean towels, Honey.”
Same scenario with toilet paper. (Yes, I’m for real.)
In my mind, I’m thinking, do you even live here?
And then we’d have the food issue.
“We have no food in the house. I’m going to go get something to eat.”
I would silently wonder how in the world, with no food, I was able to manage to make dinner six or seven nights in a row with what was in the cupboard. Resources, Dude!
You have to just chuckle.
And after I chuckled, I owned the fact that I created this monster by taking care of everything for all these years.
So married life went on for us as married life goes on for most, I’d dare to say.
Then one day you think you’d like to start a family.
My first memory of the truth really coming out was during the labor of A.S.
I was about 18 hours into natural labor and eight to nine centimeters dilated. Not the most comfortable of times. My strong, brave husband was opening some mail and suffered a stage one (minor) paper cut. The poor thing was distressed by this.
I have never felt the desire to cut him until that moment. If I hadn’t have been in that position and I’d have got my hands on a paper clip or something, he very well may have been served!
In all those months of me being pregnant, we had never really discussed duties of taking care of a baby. (Please, for your sanity, I recommend doing this!)
After all those hours of labor, I was expecting Daddy to change some diapers for me so I could relax.
Imagine my shock when I discovered that this man that I had dated/been married to for 11 years, who I had seen work on toilets and dirty cars and just about anything else, thought dirty diapers were “nasty.”
Was he kidding? No. He was dead serious. As a heart attack.
Was I fuming a little as I was up changing diapers hours after delivery and he was lounging in my hospital bed taking advantage of the free cable? You bet! Did I have the right to feel this way? Sure. Is there anything I could do about it? No!
This man had been showing me his stance on things for over a decade. He is who he is! And I accepted it over and over — yeah, after the two years of initial rejection. The practical joke was on me, and I didn’t even know it!
So as I jokingly bash my man on a blog he will most likely never read, I want to balance the scale a little bit with how much I do appreciate him. He is such a hardworking, smart, handsome man who possesses the incredible ability to get on my last nerve and make me smile at the same time.
Now that I’m “in the know,” I’ll be shaking my head at the next wedding I attend, wondering if the poor bride knows exactly what she’s getting herself into!
Maybe that’s why wedding guests are really crying after all!?
And if you’re a ways away from the altar, make sure you do one thing and one thing only — listen when someone tells you who they really are! It really will make this practical joke have more of a humorous quality in the end!