Fuck rulebooks.
“Your relationship is weird, I don’t understand it.”
That’s been told to me multiple times now, actually. And I’m here to address it, albeit, not that I have to explain myself...because well, it’s nobody’s damn business but our own.
However, here we go.
When Brett and I met, I knew with every fiber of my being, I was going to marry him. Instantly, we were more than dating. I met Hailey day two, his dad 4 weeks after. I essentially moved in day 3, but officially a couple months after we met. If we weren’t dating, then what? Boyfriend? Nah...I’m not 25 and we knew this was it. He was my partner. My true partner.
(Pausing here...he will ALWAYS be my boyfriend, we will ALWAYS date. That’s part of what makes our relationship so magical. And part of our promise to one another...never stop dating each other).
Fast forward a few months, we are talking about marriage. Now this was a very big deal as both of us swore off marriage (been there, done that!). Hell, I swore that I wouldn’t live with another man ever again! And he promised the same to himself. But I knew...I knew it was Brett. I knew he was the exception to my rule.I knew that I would marry him, the moment I met him practically. So we went for it!
So last December, right after we finished unwrapping our early Christmas, I proposed to him...as we were brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed. Fast forward to May, and we bought our home and began to remodel it for us and our family. Then to August 10th, when he surprised me and asked me to marry him, this time with some bling.
“This is your time to really enjoy being engaged! Relish in it, don’t rush... why are you calling him your husband already?”
Why? Because he IS my husband. He’s my partner in everything. Over the last two years, we have gone through SO.MUCH.LIFE together, it’s unreal. Two career changes, three real estate transactions (in 4 months mind you!), family illness, financial dips and then paying off debt, TONS of emotional and personal baggage unpacked with therapy, two significant injuries, custody issues and lawyer visits, loss of friends, almost losing Leo...the list goes on and on. And, because there are no rules in which you navigate life!
And we faced all of it, and more, together. Side by side and coming out of every situation stronger individually and more bound together than ever. If that’s not a real marriage, I don’t know what is.
So why the hell does it matter that I call him my husband? Is there a rulebook I somehow missed? (And if there was a rulebook, I would have tossed it out, long ago).
You see, there are no rules about how you celebrate your love for another human. No book saying you must do XYZ and in that order…don’t you remember, we told our parents to fuck off. We told them, nope…we are doing things our way now. Whether you want the big wedding with all the thrills, or not. Marriage isn’t about how much money you spend on a single day, it’s about how much attention and care you invest over the years that follow. It’s about your love for one another, your partnership with your person...your life together. There are no rules on how you celebrate your relationship. And there sure as hell are no rules on whether to call your person your boyfriend, your partner, your husband.
So I changed my name. I made it official. I tell people he is my husband. We don’t need the bells and whistles of a big wedding. Of closures we still have plans to do a small ceremony in January, but that doesn’t change our relationship in any way. That’s just for Hailey to be there, for our small group of friends to party on the mountain with. This is our life, this is our path, our choices. Rulebook be damned. And dammit, you know 2020 burned all it’s rulebooks! So why question me!
And it felt SO GOOD to get rid of my old last name...my ex husband’s that has been haunting me for years. So yeah, you bet your ass I was running to the courts to change my name, (you know, filling it out online and waiting 7 weeks just for the judge to change it, then waiting another 6 weeks for Social Security, then more waiting on the DMV, banks, passports… you know, running 2020 style).
So call me crazy, don’t agree with my tactics...I don’t care. This is my life, our life...and our choice. My and my husband.
Fuck rulebooks. Do shit your own way.