Day 051: How Did I Get So Married?
I wasn’t the first one in my friend group to get married. I know this, you know this, the American People know this. In fact, I was pretty late to the party. I watched as one by one, a good chunk of my friends became domesticated. It happens so quickly. One day, you and your friends are doing bong rips of Salvia in an Arby’s parking lot. The next, nobody can go out on a Saturday night because “Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman” is on Crackle. It’s weird, it’s disheartening and everyone goes out of their way to preach that “It will happen to you!” And like a kid whose Dad doesn’t care for Limp Bizkit, your response is always, “No way! I’m going to be cool and irresponsible forever!”
I proved them wrong for so long. I stayed single for an unhealthy amount of time. I did stupid things on my own. I befriended bartenders. I got day drunk and yelled at horses. I even tried stand-up comedy for a bit. But my day eventually came. When I finally did meet my soulmate, I was blessed to find one that had absolutely no interest in changing me. In fact, she even encourages my childish tendencies. She doesn’t care if I play video games until 4 in the morning. She doesn’t make me watch any of her shows. I’m still allowed to have friends and when public health dictates, she doesn’t mind me getting shitfaced at the bar on a Monday night. She accepts my crazed sense of humor, even when she doesn’t understand it. When I spout out nonsequiturs, she just rolls her eyes and nods along. She fell in love with the guy she met in the first place, she has no reason to change me.
So how is it that I got so married?
It starts out slow and then accelerates quickly. At first, I embraced my freedom. But then as time went on, I genuinely wanted to be around her all the time. Other activities just didn’t sound so appealing anymore. A coworker would ask if I wanted to brownbag and go for a walk after work and I’d have to respond, “Nah, it’s Thursday. That’s when Rachel and I eat empanadas and watch ‘Married At First Sight'”. It sounds like I’m being forced to say it, but in all honesty, it’s something I look forward to every week. I’ve actually been embracing married life on my own free will. There’s something so empowering in saying, “I’ll have to ask my wife”. It’s actually saying, “That’s right, motherfucker. There’s a person out there that cares about me immensely. She has a right to know about my schedule and I would like to arrange it in a way that lines up with hers”. Being in love is a power like none other and you can inject it into all facets of your life. It feels good, man. I’d recommend it.
My married-ness shone blindingly this week. Rachel wanted to decorate the apartment for Christmas and she didn’t really expect me to be enthused about it. She was dead wrong. I was chomping at the bit to Christmas the fuck out of the place. She even bought a bunch of miniature display pieces to make a Christmas Table of sorts and my eyes lit up. That’s not a stupid idea, that sounds fucking awesome. Wait, why is it awesome? Who cares, it’s Christmas! So we went to Target to buy more decorations. Some guy that was stocking the shelves marked out for my Dodgers hat. I said my thanks, was about to talk a little baseball to him and then something caught the corner of my eye. It was a cute, teeny tiny stocking with a “W” on it. I squealed in glee. I could only imagine what the guy was thinking. First he thought I was some regular okay dude that watches baseball and suddenly, I’m shouting, “OH MY GOD BABE, LOOKIT THIS STOCKING IT’S SO FUCKING CUUUUTE!!! WE NEED THIIIIISSSSSSSSS!!!” He might think to himself that I’m a prisoner to my wife, but actually I’m just a husband to her. Huge difference. Also, you can’t deny that tiny stocking for cats are cute as hell. Or maybe you can. Shut up.
And that’s how we spent our Friday Night. Instead of drinking beer and vegging out while watching Wrestling, I helped decorate the apartment for Christmas while CNN played on the TV. If that’s not “Married AF”, I don’t know what is. I stopped for a moment to state this out loud and the consensus among us that it was totally perfect. And after the apartment was all Christmassy, what did we do? We drank, vegged out and watched Wrestling. Because I have the coolest wife in the world that accepts me for me. Get yourself one of those and then tell me with a straight face that being domesticated is a bad thing. You wouldn’t be able to. It’s actually the best thing you can do.