Yesterday was my 6 year wedding anniversary. In some ways I cannot believe that six years of my life have already past and I’m still very close to the situation I was in when I got married. We’re not in school anymore, but we still have no money, our furniture is one step up from milk crates (thanks IKEA!), no kids, future indeterminate.
But in other ways I can’t believe it’s only been six years. I cannot think of a time when my life was not tied to this man. Because I have not an ounce of trust in my nature, I have more than once thought what I would do if Bear died or if something happened that forced me to leave him. And every single time the answer terrifies me. I have no idea. I have no family of my own, and by now I have very few friends that I’d call mine alone, I don’t have a career or even a job that could support me, and my health has me disabled. If Bear ever starts to mistreat me, the fact of the matter is that for at least a little while I’d have to take it. But even in my most pessimistic, cynical imaginings I cannot come up with a scenario where he would. And short of death I know he’d never leave me.
I just happened to find a man that breaks every stereotype. He’s big and muscular and athletic, and the most tenderhearted person I’ve ever known. He kisses the cats as much as I do, cries during commercials, and gets self conscious in public. There is not an ounce of ego in him. He relies on my opinion in all things, most especially my opinion of him. For a time he honestly thought so little of himself that the only way I could pick him up was to draw a complicated logic problem proving that if I thought he was wonderful, and if he thought I was wonderful enough to only associate with wonderful people, then it follows that by my associating with him, he must be wonderful. And it worked. And he got through that rough patch.
He hangs out with his friends only when I have plans. If I’m free, he wants to be with me. He wants to talk to me about his day and hash out everything that happened and every possible course of action. Six years into our marriage there are still nights that we stay up all night just talking.
And he has never once suggested anything short of complete love when he’s asked to work a full day, make dinner, wash the dishes, put away the laundry, make me up a bed on the couch, fetch me pills and drinks, entertain me, help me to the bathroom, shower me and wash my hair, and put me to sleep. Without having sex.
I love him. And tying my life to his has forced me to develop trust I never had before. But he’s earned it so many times over.