Scott: Do you know how lucky you are to be married to me? I take you to places like the Dominican Republic for our 10-year anniversary.
Me: Uh, do you know how lucky you are to be married to me? You have a wife that hates shopping and loves to fish. It’s not even a trip to the Dominican Republic to me. It’s a trip to the Atlantic Ocean.
This is the big one.
The big fishing trip.
Every fishing trip this year was practice for the Dominican Republic. My confidence is up. It has to be – I will have professional anglers yelling at me to keep the line tight. I’m expecting it. And I’m going to yell right back at them: I LOVE YOU TOO! The yelling will be forgiven when we’re smiling for the cameras holding up a 200-pound blue marlin.
But it’s another big one. Today is our wedding anniversary. 1 decade. 10 years. 3,652 days of marriage.
3,652 days of marriage doesn’t sound like an important milestone. 1,000 days sounds important. Or maybe 5,000 days. A decade is a milestone and there should be a speech with that.
Words from the bride, aged 10 years –
Out of 3,652 days, most days were good. And some days were not good. They were terrible, really. It’s hard to imagine what forever means when you’re a 22-year-old at the alter.
I have never baked a turkey on Thanksgiving. I fake sleep so the kids will bother Scott in the mornings. I have been known to ask Scott to do something repeatedly – some call it nagging. I also scream. I yell. I answer with, “fine.”
I am not the wife of the year.
I do know that day 3,649 sucked. Scott dragged me to a spinning class with him. I walked out of there convinced he was trying to give me a heart attack or fracture my butt bones.
Day 667 and day 1755 were life-changing days for both of us. But this post isn’t about becoming parents.
Like babies growing up, it’s impossible to see the change in a marriage day-to-day. If you look at a photograph of us a decade ago, you’ll see it. Change. We have wrinkles around the eyes when we laugh now. Scott doesn’t wear his wedding ring because he lost it. My hair color is not its natural color anymore. We have sunspots on our faces. Our looks are going downhill.
We’re also closer. Our personalities changed in ten years. Our feelings on marriage, kids, friends, work, good music, and the definition of a perfect night out changed in ten years. You may not see that kind of closeness in a photograph – although, you might see it in the picture-perfect world of Instagram. I love a good filter.
Scott and I were complete opposites when we got married. Our wedding was proof that opposites attracted. Ten years ago, I didn’t know we would have to overcome that. Two opposites may attract but they won’t last in a home when one is squeaky clean and craves attention and the other drags bloody deer into the house and needs alone time in the woods.
We didn’t know babies would leave us emotionally drained at the end of the day. We didn’t know marriage becomes routine. We didn’t know each other enough to know what each other needed.
Like any good couple, we also mastered the art of fighting. I know exactly what to say to send his blood pressure out the roof. He knows nothing will bother me more than his silent treatments.
we always come back to each other, like magnets. Our wedding day did prove that opposites attract.
The beauty of ten years is we know each other more than anyone else. We know what we like on our sandwiches without asking each other. We read each other’s body language when we’re in a group of people. Scott encourages me to write even if it is about him because he knows my mind questions if I’m any good at it. I live in a home with trophy deer on the walls because they represent Scott’s years of hard work, alone in the woods.
Scott knows 3,652 days ago, I would have never agreed to a 5-day fishing trip in the Dominican Republic. I found a new love with Scott. It’s fishing. You could even say this new love saved Scott and me because I guess, like fishing, you don’t realize what you have until you fight to get it.
Then you yell, “I LOVE YOU TOO!”and smile for the cameras.
I love you, Scott. And my marlin will be bigger than your marlin.