I Married Young And I Don't Regret It One Bit

I Married Young And I Don't Regret It One Bit

It was the biggest and best decision we ever made.

1054
views

I'll never forget sitting across from the dean of my department, one week away from college graduation. It was May 2008. I had just turned 21 the week before. It was only my third year of college, but I had racked up enough credits to graduate. In fact, I was there in her office to pick up my Summa Cum Laude tassel and talk about my academic performance. She marveled at my ability to cram a year's worth of courses into summer school and overloaded semesters, somehow graduating a year ahead of my peers.

She looked down at her folder, then back up at me. "Surely," she started, "You rushed through this last year so you could start your master's program early, right?" I smiled because, for all of the records she had in front of her and all the files she had in the cabinet behind her, she didn't know everything about me. She didn't know that I'd been engaged since the November before and I was thick in the process of planning my wedding, which was set to take place just a few months down the road on August 30. Exactly five years from the day my fiance and I went on our first date.

"Nope," I said with a smile, "I'm getting married!" I showed her my ring and she gave me a terse grin in reply. I was expecting a diatribe about why I was too young, why I shouldn't rush into it, why I should be like the rest of my friends, who were all in their dorms getting ready to go out for Thirsty Thursday at the local Western-themed dance saloon. Instead, she just closed my folder, gave me my tassel and told me she would see me on stage on Saturday.

The thing is, she didn't have to say anything. I had heard it all before. Your twenties are for your friends. They're for finding yourself, making those big mistakes, taking those leaps of faith, traveling as much and as often as you can, learning to navigate personal finances, staying up late, finding your footing in your career. They're for discovering who you really are, what you really want, and whether or not your hometown is the best place for you anymore.

I wanted to do all of those things. I just desperately wanted to do them with the love of my life.

I met my husband in high school; he was a junior and I was a sophomore. Our first date in August 2003 was the first time we'd ever spoken in person. It was the era of AOL Instant Messenger (may she RIP) and MySpace, where a single away message could mean the end of a relationship or the beginning of one. We chatted online for months, avoided each other in the hallway at school, and he finally asked me out to eat dinner, play Putt-Putt, and watch a movie at his house.

A few weeks later, it only took one big band concert on the lawn of the local library, under the stars one balmy September evening, and we were irrevocably intertwined.

I've never looked back. When he went away to college, I followed him to the same one. We created a mutual group of friends who would go to the dining hall together, stay up late cramming in the same book stacks, and chat on our futons until the nighttime turned into the sunrise. It was bliss but it was also really hard, sometimes- because there are pretty girls on campuses and pretty boys, too. We were both insecure and immature and it takes time for your heart to realize that jealousy only breeds contempt. We never split up, except for one weird summer when we ditched all labels, yelled at each other that we would do whatever we wanted, could see whoever we wanted, and might not get back together once the summer came to a close.

Those were just words. That lasted about a day. We spent the entire summer together anyway.

We married when I was 21 and he was 22. Since then, we've had a decade of memories together.

I've helped him train for a marathon, try new homebrewing trends, discover his innate ability to create any restaurant meal from scratch, and plant a garden every year in the same spot in our backyard. Along the way, we've changed careers a total of six times. We rented, then bought, our favorite little cottage in all the world, just miles from both of our parents. We've welcomed two babies and poured every ounce of love we share into our little family. In two weeks, we'll celebrate 10 years of wedded bliss, and 15 years of togetherness.

Do I regret marrying early? Not for a single second. The way I saw it, we already knew we were made for each other. I didn't need to get anything out of my system. He didn't want to sow any wild oats. We just wanted to get our lives started as soon as possible.

Is the route we took for everyone? Absolutely not. Do I think it was the best decision for us? Completely.

Literally, so hot RN

Literally, so hot RN

When You're Dating A First Responder, Sacrifice Is Something You Have To Respect

It is his career and I respect that 100%.

10
views

I have heard all kinds of stories about women whose boyfriends/husbands are firefighters that died in the line of duty. One that always surprises me is when they get angry with their significant other for not considering them or their families when on the job.

As the girlfriend of a firefighter, I 100% disagree with how those women feel and here's why.

My boyfriend has been a firefighter for about a year and a half now and has known that it would be his career since we started dating as seniors in high school. Before he even started working for a department, I was constantly nervous about how I would feel when he was out on calls. Would I ever get over the anxiety of the possibility of him losing his life and putting it at risk with every call?

When he did finally get on a department, I was extremely nervous for the first six months or so. Then something hit me. This career was his decision. He encouraged me to attend a school six hours away from home and said doing long distance would be ok and we'd make it work. While that's not the same as running into burning buildings, he always supports me with everything I do.

Running into burning buildings, standing on the side of busy roads and climbing dangerous ladders is what he chose to do for a living. It's his calling, his way of finding his place in the world. He trains harder than anyone I've ever met and is currently studying extremely hard to become a paramedic. Saving people's lives is in his blood.

If he gives up his life to save someone else's, I will not be angry or upset. I will be proud. If I have to go to his funeral, I will be surrounded by his brothers for support and my children will know their dad was a hero. In my eyes, regardless of if he's driving the engine, working the hose or running into those houses, he is a hero. Every time the tones drop, I no longer feel anxiety. I feel a sense of pride knowing that he is there for people in their worst moments. He's the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel, the literal saving grace.

There is nothing in this world that makes me prouder of my firefighter boyfriend than the selfless job he chose. I chose him because of that selflessness and I will never regret that, regardless of the fact that he may lose his life for someone else.

OMG, check these out

Connect with a generation
of new voices.

We are students, thinkers, influencers, and communities sharing our ideas with the world. Join our platform to create and discover content that actually matters to you.

Learn more Start Creating

To The Boy Who Loves Me Next, You're Allowed To Leave Me

And I am not scared of it happening anymore.

5
views
"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." -C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

I used to, in the past, fall for people because they made me feel like it was safe to.

The guy who brought me flowers on the first date, told me he would follow me anywhere a week and a half after meeting me, and blew hundreds of dollars to impress me, seemed like the right option. I was so proud of myself for ending the cycle of going for the "wrong guy." I ignored all of the red flags because he was a comfortable, safe choice. If he was that emotionally connected to me, I should like him. I chose to pursue him over a guy I had feelings for at the time because I felt like it was the "right" choice to be with the "good guy." It didn't matter that I felt nothing when he kissed me, that we had nothing in common, and that I truly was not okay with some of his life decisions. It didn't matter that he treated me horribly, because as long as I felt like he was loyal to me, needed me, and wouldn't leave me, I didn't care what happened within those parameters. I fell for security, or the illusion of security. I didn't fall for a person.

The biggest fear I had was if I let my guard down for somebody, that they would walk away. I couldn't have known that choosing security, choosing the person I didn't think would walk away, would carry me right into the most toxic and suffocating relationship possible — one that drained all of the life force out of me and actually never ended up making me feel any positive feelings. He mistreated me over and over, leaving permanent scars on my heart that I'm not sure will ever fully heal. But I felt like I had invested too much emotion already. Opening my heart up was the most difficult thing I had done, and I didn't think I could ever do it again after the immense failure I felt had come from that relationship. So, it was better to be safe with the devil I knew than the devil I didn't.

Eventually, though, the hurt came. He did leave, and it felt like he had taken everything from me but my ability to feel pain. Despite me choosing the safest route I could possibly find, I still was left totally devastated. But I wasn't devastated over losing him. I was devastated over losing my security.

This, unfortunately, is the caveat of love. If you can manage to fall for someone when they fall for you, you are very lucky. But you will never have that guarantee. Somebody could promise you on their lives that they will never leave, they will never lose interest, that they will be the one in your life who doesn't hurt you, but they still don't owe you anything. You could be with somebody for years and years and they could wake up one day and decide that they don't love you anymore. In a healthy relationship, the person you're with needs to feel like they have this freedom, and you need to be comfortable with them having it.

We have to be strong enough to be okay with this harsh truth. There are no guarantees in love, or in life. It is devastating to fall for somebody and to lose them. But the solution to this is not to avoid falling for people — the solution is to accept that you might lose them. But you must love them despite that.

You must love despite the risk because it is selfish to love somebody only when they have proven to be a low-risk investment for you.

You must love despite the risk because love is not rooted in codependency and safety.

You must love despite the risk because that is the only way you will ever be able to experience the deeply satisfying feeling of being vulnerable with somebody with absolutely no expectations of them, knowing what you're risking and doing it anyway, throwing caution to the wind- and for them to return it.

You must love despite the risk because everybody you love will eventually be taken away from you. Permanence in love simply does not exist.

You must love despite the risk because you are strong enough to.

OMG, check these out

Facebook Comments