I have seriously been neglecting this blog, my life is just wildly hectic right now. But, I’ll be updating on a regular schedule soon enough–I promise!
On November 3, A officially proposed to me, and it got me thinking about what comes with marrying young. I can throw countless statistics in the air about young marriages and their success rates, but I can match them with stories of real couples who have made it work—and I can look at my own relationship and further analyze marriage at a young age. I’ve summed it up in three main points below, and even if you are single or you’re 43 and happily wed, I feel that we all need a brush-up.
- Getting married young is not “the end”
It seems like a common trend for people to hear of a young couple tying the knot and respond along the lines of “But you have your whole life ahead of you!” or “Marriage is going to be the end of you!”
Actually, I know my whole life is ahead of me, that’s why I want to share it with my partner! Marriage is not an endgame, but another stepping stone of many people’s lives, and it should be received with joy and happiness. Even if it is not your friends’ or families’ personal cup of tea to marry young, their personal preference has little bearing over your choice and satisfaction. If it’s time, you’ll know it, and don’t let the year on your birth certificate stop you.
That being said, don’t dive in to marriage immaturely. Step back and consider if your partner is the person you want to wake up beside in 50 years when you’re both old and suffering from multiple health issues, and the lust is very much gone. Do you want to pledge yourself to looking after this person when things aren’t peachy, and supporting them through their stress and trials? Are you willing to give 100% to this person for the rest of your life, and forget the possibility of ever pursuing another? Do you accept that things are going to suck, frequently, and there is little you can do but hold to one another and weather the storm?
Fully consider what you’re doing, but don’t view marriage as “the end.” Marriage is another beginning, and even if that beginning is happening when you’re 19 (like me) or 90, it should be treated with respect.
- People won’t approve—and that’s okay
You will never be able to please anyone, and chances are that every marriage is bound to step on some toes—young marriages seem to be the kings of doing so, in fact. There will be many people who don’t support your marriage and will voice their doubts, hitting you with divorce statistics and essentially dooming you to failure. While you shouldn’t just throw in the towel because some Jane Doe tells you you’re headed for disaster, think of their concerns: what grounding do they have for thinking this way? What advice can you draw from their negativity? Do they make a valid point?
A lot of times, people oppose young marriages because they see older couples split up and choose to judge young people on a gradient scale: if two much older, seemingly more mature and committed individuals can’t make it work, why could two kids? Remember, though, that you are not your peers failures, and that as long as you are going into this with a clear heart and level head, you can fight and make this work, and prove the naysayers wrong.
- Be prepared for what’s ahead
As I’ve harped on, marriage is not easy. If you’re having problems now, they’ll only multiply with your wedding—marriage is not some magic cure to your romantic issues, and it’s not a promise that your situation will always be light and happy and loving. Marriage is a promise, though, to stand by each other no matter what, to offer the other person constant love and understanding, and an agreement that you will face your problems head on and work through them together. Marriage is a permanent partnership and shouldn’t be regarded with the possibility of divorce—eradicate divorce from your mind going into this, or it will hang over your marriage like a disease, waiting to strike.
Be mature and informed; ask advice, and listen with an open heart. Accept your partner for who they are, because they won’t be changing any time soon, and you are committing to a life with this person. Love them, and be loved!
Sometimes in the hustle and bustle of our lives, I think it is very easy for me to forget to let A know how much I appreciate him. After all, this wonderful, beautiful, talented boy has brought me so much happiness and safety and comfort, I feel like I should be saying “thank you” at least once an hour to him, but I allow petty bullshit to cloud my judgment occasionally and my huff and pride get in the way.
A, when you read this, know that I am totally sorry being an asshole.
Let me tell you all, for a moment, all of the wonderful, small things A does for me regularly.
He is always more than willing to rub my back or feet, even when I’ve had socks on all day and my feet are gross and sweaty and smell bad—he even likes it to some extent, which is unfathomable to me. He brushes my hair for me and holds my hand; he gives me really warm hugs and tells me sappy, silly things to make me smile. He never lets me forget that he loves my laugh, and that my voice is musical to him. He doesn’t complain about my dietary preferences, or my incessant teasing; he brings me to meet his friend so that I can join the circle, and he is never afraid to show me off in public. He regularly steps outside of his comfort zone to please me, even if it means he isn’t too thrilled. He will always sacrifice his jacket for me, even if it’s freezing, and pretend that he doesn’t even notice he is dying of frostbite.
If I’m displeased with my outfit, he will sacrifice his clothing for me—and knows full well I will most likely kidnap it. In fact, he willingly gives me his clothing! When I’m having an episode, he does his best to keep me calm and bring me down, and he never makes me feel bad for being unable to handle myself. If it all gets too much and I lose control, he offers me nothing but love and acceptance. He does his very best to assure that I’m happy and loved, and that I want or need for nothing—even at his own expense, and he does this with a smile on his face and never acts the slightest bit piffed.
For all of these reasons and more, I love and appreciate A more than I could put into words. He’s my knight in shining armor and my personal super hero, my partner in fighting crime—he is the other half of me, and I feel wholeheartedly that his presence in my life is a completion of my own.
A, I appreciate you and all the things you do for me more than I could ever tell you. Thank you so much, for being exactly who you are.
As always, we are accepting donations towards our wedding budget if you are so inclined. You can donate here
When I allow myself to dwell on the negative and the obstacles ahead of me, I lean more and more towards just saying “fuck it!” and taking a trip to the courthouse. However, I know that if I choose to forego a ceremony and reception, I’ll probably be wishing after it for the rest of my natural life, and that just isn’t ok with me at all.
I don’t want anything fancy, but I still feel like our wedding is going to throw us under the budget bus. After all, $5,000 is a lot of money, especially to two kids! I feel like we’re absolutely crazy for setting aside a chunk that large for a one-time event that A had initially proposed we forego in favor of elopement (I wonder if my reservations about skipping a ceremony stem from myself or my knowledge that my family will raise hell.)
Maybe I’m just being an unnecessary stress bug, maybe I’m being overly-practical. A is so calm and collected and cool; he’s so confident we’re going to make this work, and I wish I shared a bit of his enthusiasm, but pessimism is doing me no favors on that front.
On the subject of finances, I have reached out to the safety net of the World Wide Web on funrazr.com and set up a donation page for my upcoming nuptials. I have no idea who would want to donate or how much, but I figure that every bit of help will lead to eternal gratitude from the two of us. If you’re interested in donating, I will now be including that link in every post—expect regular updates on here about the status of donations, and regular updates on there about small goals and triumphs.
Sorry that this post seems disjointed and frantic, I’m running on fumes today and border lining a breakdown. Any advice, please? I’m so desperate.
If you are so inclined, we are asking for donations towards our $5,000 budget. Please follow this link, and remember that any small amount is a tremendous help!
Have you ever been surfing the web, bored out of your mind, and stumbled upon some strange couple’s retelling of their personal love story? It’s a strange and beautiful thing, how our unique tales so deviate, and it seems like the best love stories are always spontaneous or surprising, unplanned or hopeless. Have you ever just skimmed one and though to yourself, “I want that” or “how do I make that happen?”
It feels like I have one of those stories with A. When I look back logically, I always question how in the hell everything managed to fall so perfectly into place—how, despite sooooo many pre-conceptions and obstacles, we became the one we are today. If one of my friends had met their partner the way I met A, I would probably laugh and shake my head. But because this is my love story, because this is our history, it makes perfect sense to me and I wouldn’t change any moment of it.
A and I met in a small hole-in-the-wall music venue that I absolutely adore and visit as often as possible. It’s the kind of place where most of the crowd knows most of the crowd, and although the atmosphere is somewhat elitist, it is comfortable to me and I have never felt unwelcome. In fact, I’ve had people approach me and tell me they saw me there, that we should hang out sometimes, and it makes me question whether I’ve now become a fixture of the scene. If so, that would be fucking fantastic.
But back to the tale at hand.
On this particular night, I was actually double-dipping: I’d been at the venue the day before for another show, and had promised friends there I would return (bless the universe for my return.) One of my friends (who I rarely see but affectionately refer to as “Mom” because of her protectiveness of me) was present, which was a huuuge surprise, so of course I freaked out—so much so that I didn’t notice her company at first, until she introduced us.
A was beautiful. He was also just my type, which so rarely occurs where I live, that my interest was instantly peaked. At the time, I was actually kinda “talking” to someone else, so I wasn’t interested in a romance, but I was very intrigued by this kid. He was just the type of guy you could imagine smoking in the back lot of a high school: kinda tall, with a tall pompadour and thick-rimmed glasses, dressed from head-to-toe in black and wearing a “fuck you” expression on his face.
He was not at all friendly.
In fact, A was a major asshole. I spent a majority of my night going out of my way to be friendly (because he was friends with a friend and he just generally seemed unhappy, and I like to make people happy) and was rebuffed just about every time. The one spark of connection we made was in discussion of an upcoming convention: AWA. I tentatively declared we should hang there, and he basically replied with a “Yeah, sure, whatever” and the moment was over.
Later that night, the before-mentioned “Mom” friend texted me (direct quote here): “Hey, I really like A, and I know your flirting so… I guess I’m asking nicely to please kind of chill… Lol.” At the time, I actually had zero romantic intent, so it was super aggravating for her to call me out for “flirting” when I was making an honest attempt to be sociable. It was also slightly amusing for me, because the friend in question seemed to stand no chance, but I’m nothing if not loyal and I sent her back a super sweet reply and didn’t say another word to A.
A few weeks passed non-discreetly, during which time I actually followed A on Instagram (because “Mom” friend had posted a picture with him, and his account was filled with tons of nerdy blurbs about superheroes and comics I enjoyed) and he followed me back. It wasn’t really a dwelling moment: I had begun seeing someone else, and even though the relationship wasn’t exactly happy or satisfying, I was trying. And con was approaching, of course! I was too busy scrambling with last minute cosplay details to really pay attention to some random boy on social media, so I honestly just forgot about it and packed up for con.
The con in question (AWA, to be specific) was actually a lot of fun at first. I went with my best friend and one of his friends, and we formed the perfect dream team it seemed. We checked in to our hotels and changed into cosplay, then waited for an eternity to pick up our passes. We got sucked into the “first day zombie walk” and generally just meandered around and gaped at amazing cosplays, then finally realized we were all dying of hunger and grabbed some food. While we were out, I got a cute snap of my cosplay and posted it on Instagram, then threw myself back into the con life. The three of us had already established we were going to party it up at con, so after we’d gotten our fill for the day, we took a break to go booze hunting. During this time, I checked my phone to see a comment on my cosplay post: “Hey that’s where I am!”
The poster? A, of course.
I shot back a, “Dude awesome! We should hang tomorrow.” After all, I already had plans for the remainder of the night, and I had all weekend to chill with some random guy I had only met once. The night ended up taking as turn, though, and we wound up dropping of our drinks at mine and my best friend’s hotel room and then heading back to con for a bit. My best friend had discovered some more of his friends were there and they wanted to meet up, so his other friend and I decided to kinda wander around on our own. At this point, I was out of cosplay and kinda bored, so I was scrolling through my phone when I received a direct message on Instagram from A, containing his phone number and a request to text him. We wound up setting up a rendezvous because I invited him to come drinking with us, and after several miscommunications, I and my companion finally met up with A.
In the time since I’d last seen him, he’d somehow gotten more appealing, but I forced myself to ignore that. After all, I did have someone else who held my fancy, and he had just generally been pretty un-friendly to me, so it wasn’t a tree worth barking up. The three of us had a pretty good time hanging out until we decided we wanted to head back: this was where it gets messy. My best friend’s phone had died, and the friend he was with was not responding to my messages. We wound up trouncing all over con looking for them, temporarily losing my best friend’s friend in the process, before we were all finally reunited. By this point I was extremely pissed and it was showing, which was a bit embarrassing as I didn’t want A to have a bad impression of me, but he seemed like he was having a good time. My best friend led us on the most impractical route ever back to the hotel, and by the time we arrived, his friend simply packed up a portion of our booze and he left with her to drive her to her respective hotel room.
This left A and I alone, and on our way to being drunk.
At some point, I decided (for whatever reason) that A needed to be exposed to some horrible fan fiction (“My Immortal,” to be exact.) He only made it through a few paragraphs before he’d had enough, and he decided I needed to be exposed to real literature. By this point, we were well and wasted, and in the process, we had begun sitting closer and closer together. With our knees touching, A read my Edgar Allen Poe’s “Telltale Heart,” and it was then that I fully acknowledged I was falling for him. A was pretty far gone by the time he finished the story and decided he was going to sleep—we were on the couch in the living room part of my hotel room, as my best friend had made it apparent he intended to pass out when he returned, so we were leaving the bedroom portion open for him. A laid down and did his best to snuggle up to me, so I figured I may as well join him and wound up lying beside him, face turned away.
The mood in the room changed sharply from here. A tapped my shoulder to get my attention and when I turned, he kissed me. My first thought, in my drunken stupor, was essentially, “oh my God is this real life?” and then I was gone. At some point in this, my best friend returned and closed himself off in the bedroom with our booze, but A and I were already set with other intentions. We wound up hooking up on the floor, and afterwards we both desperately needed a bathroom only to discover my best friend had locked the living room entrance to ours. A wound up heading to the lobby while I got the lock situation figured out, and be the time he returned, we had both sobered up a bit to really realize what had happened.
It went from “oh my God we can’t ever tell anyone, I can’t believe that happened” to somehow admitting our intense mutual attraction and starting round 2. At this point, it was far too late for A to head back to his respective room, so we wound up pulling covers and pillows in there and passing out together.
At some point the next morning, my best friend and his friend headed back out to con, but A and I opted for some additional sleep to ease our hangovers. By the time we finally got up for the day, I was too sick to really want to cosplay, so we wound up grabbing lunch and then heading back out to con.
To his credit, A did everything humanly possible to make me feel terribly awkward—it just wasn’t working.
We wound up joining up with the group he had come to con with, and we actually had a pretty great time with them. They took me to my very first 18+ panel (J Michael Tatum’s “What the Fuck,” where I got to be quizzed by Tatum himself about a horrible breakup experience) and we planned to hit up the rave as a group. However, it was apparent A and I weren’t really the rave type, and we wound up walking back to my hotel to hang out for a while (translation: bang.) I wanted desperately for A to stay the night again, but he swore he had to head back, and set an alarm for his departure. We wound up falling asleep and slept though A’s alarm, only to have to wake up early so A could hurry back and pack up for checkout (and yet, we still had time for a final ‘romantic rendezvous’.) We reluctantly accepted this would probably be our final goodbye, but promised to keep in touch through text. A left, and I went back to my previous con self.
As fate would have it, things worked out in my favor. My best friend and I had already been shady at this point, so I wound up re-adopted into A’s group. It was apparent by this point that A and I were more than just a random hook up, and we had a pretty sad goodbye when it finally came time for him to head home. I stayed with his group until my own was ready to head out, and I spent the entire car ride home texting A. I was already plotting the end of my ‘relationship,’ despite the fact my prospects with A were slim: he was adamant about avoiding anything serious, as he had a new band to commit to. Despite my sorrow over this, I sucked it up and resolved myself to be his friend, and we wound up making more plans to hang out.
A might as well have accepted that we were meant to be from the get go. Our first “date” went wonderfully, and we wound up setting up hangouts almost every day. Only a little while after our initial meet up, A let it slip in the Halloween aisle of Target that he was in love with me. I had already cut my previous ties at this point and we had announced our official commitment, but this was still a shock. Not unwelcome, though: I had already come to love A, and his revelation actually brought me to tears, I was so happy. He later came to reveal that he had realized he loved me the day that we left con to head home, and that saying goodbye to me had been horrible on him.
It was a miracle in itself, and I wouldn’t trade our unconventional approach for anything.
Shortly after, A wound up at a jam session with his guitar player, and wound up proposing elopement to me. Even though we had been together such a short time, I knew I wanted to spend my life at his side, and we retraced back and agreed to a wedding. Right now, I’m currently waiting for A to officially “pop the question” (for some reason, he still wants it to be a surprise—how in the hell anything is supposed to be surprising now, I don’t know, but oh well.) Our official date is set for October 3 of next year, but with any luck we’ll be moving that up, as I’m ready to be A’s forever right now, and my home life is not exactly happy.
We know we’re not your typical love story. I know, in fact, that I would believe this was absolutely absurd should it be happening to anyone else, but there is nothing in my life that I want more than A. I know it sounds crazy and strange and that love can drive you to wild extremes, but loving him is like coming home—and it could never be more right than right now.
If you have any negativity, please keep it to yourself, we have already heard it. However, I would love to have some response for you guys, and would be happy to answer any questions. Please comment below, I promise I’ll respond as quickly as possible!
Thank you for staying ‘til the end. Until next time, dear readers~
So, dear readers, I have an inquiry for you!
But—you’ve already posted today! This is a double post!
Yes it is, and for that I apologize, but the main purpose of this blog is to spread my story interactively, and I’ve decided that the best way to do so would be to schedule a set posting day, where I will promise to post AT LEAST on that day every week. Please take some time to answer the poll, and feel free to comment any suggestions!
What should be my regularly scheduled posting day?
A-Tidbit Tuesday, where I offer a short blurb from mine/A’s life
B-Sweetheart Saturday, where I offer up relationship advice
C-Other, please specify
I hate to say it, dear readers, but this will probably be a bit of a boring post. I promised you last time that I would provide a bit of a backstory for A and myself, and that’s fully what I intend to do here—after all, I am a girl of my word. So, please, just muddle through with me, because I feel that our stories will explain a lot of why we do what we do and how we came to become engaged and why we love each other so violently now.
I am the oldest of six children (currently) and was the only daughter for a very long time. I was born in a small town, and I went to school in a small town—I had little to no common ground with my peers, so school was a miserable experience for me. I was bullied my entire life (several times my parents had to bring legal action against my school) and I suffered from ‘Ugly Duckling Syndrome’ until my senior year of high school. I was not a particularly friendly child, and held little company; my longest standing friendship is only about 3 years, and it’s actually with my very first boyfriend.
I suffer from severe depression, and I’m currently in recovery from both an eating disorder and self-harm. I’m prone to panic attacks in high stress situations, and I have episodes where I just don’t want to be around people or I cannot bring myself to be happy. I am also a victim of sexual assault (twice, two different people) and as such, I do not particularly like physical contact. I am also the survivor of an abusive relationship and an abusive upbringing (both physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive), which further pushes my physical boundaries and makes it almost impossible for me to feel comfortable within intimate settings. I hold little trust for my peers and am always second-guessing any kindness shown me, and I would rather stay in for the day then face a barrage of falsely friendly faces.
Despite this, I am a bleeding heart. I would do anything to help anyone else, because I know how terrible life can be, and I don’t want anyone else to ever suffer what I have. I am currently attending an amazing university to go into art therapy with autistic children; I regularly volunteer with Autism Speaks, as well as a variety of other organizations. I believe that everyone deserves an endless multitude of chances and I will fight to protect others even if it means making things harder on myself, simply because no one deserves the sorrows of this world.
I am not a particularly amazing or noteworthy individual. I have a creative soul, and an old soul; Tim Burton is my idle, and Poe is still my favorite author; I am addicted to horror films and I have an unhealthy obsession with cats and foxes. I am very interested in my local music scene and avidly attend shows; I aspire to one day sing in my own pop punk band. I love to cosplay and I regularly attend conventions; I am a self-proclaimed superhero, and a non-disputable nerd. It is actually this last tidbit that led me to meet the other half of my heart: A. And so, let me now give you…
A grew up incredibly sheltered: he was homeschooled, and actually did not have human contact outside his family until his late teens. He also had a poor home situation, and at 16 years old, A left home to become homeless for some time. He worked some odd jobs (as a radio host, as a valet) and lived out of his car for a while—he eventually wound up rooming with one of his fellow valets, and he is currently looking to move out with a different friend. He now has an amazing job in sales, which he loves, and he is the front man of an aspiring local band.
Music is A’s life. It’s what drives him, what soothes him, what pleases and excites him. When he was young, he took up piano by ear and concocted concert level pieces without formal training; he has gone on to learn 15 instruments total, and has a beautiful singing voice. A dreams of becoming a ‘rock star;’ he isn’t happy without music around, and his future is wholeheartedly dedicated to making his musical career work. He has an amazing God-given talent, and I love the passion and dedication I see within him, because it is something so fierce and so founded it is almost dizzying.
A, too, is a horribly nerdy individual. Captain America is his idol, and he could spend hours talking about the Marvel universe—he’s got a large collection of comic books and figurines, and is a monthly subscriber of Lootcrate. He is the kind of guy you would imagine being picked on in high school, but he is shockingly gorgeous in a retro, bad boy kind of way—and I’m no just saying that because I’m biased, the boy is fucking beautiful. He’s also quietly intelligent, a great lover of God, and true gentleman.
A also suffers from bipolar disorder, but I don’t feel comfortable delving into all of his personal issues at this time.
Before me, A was only ever in one serious relationship, and it ended poorly. Despite this, he is a true romantic at heart, and every day he is surprising me with the sheer strength of his love for me.
But that is a story for another post.
I’m sorry if this seems a bit lame, but I figured I should establish some reference—after all, A and I are the subjects of this blog, and shouldn’t you know a bit more about your main characters? If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask, I promise I won’t bite! Next post, I’ll reveal to you our grand, somewhat questionable love story, and then we can finally move on to the juicier details: wedding plans, play by plays, general tomfoolery.
Until next time.
As a young girl, marriage seemed an inevitable end goal, and it was commonplace (almost even required) for myself and my peers to plan elaborate ceremonies and construct detailed lists of requirements for our future spouses. It was easy to discuss becoming someone’s wife, but as I grew older, marriage became more and more of a concern rather than a delight. At the age of 18, when I mention the words “wedding” or “husband,” my friends almost recoil, as though I am spreading some sort of plague and they don’t wish to be infected. Spending your life in a monogamous relationship no longer seems to hold its former appeal, and getting married at my age? It’s considered insane, irresponsible, and destined for disaster.
That being said, I am getting married.
I do not consider myself to be a poor decision maker, nor did I really see myself ever becoming someone’s wife until very recently. I was self-sufficient and independent, and I would take care of myself all while being unbridled and free to flirt with whomever I pleased.
And then I met A.
We have a very untraditional love story, the least aspect of which being our young age (I am only 18, and A is 19.) Very few people know of our impending matrimony as it has not yet been publicly announced, but it seems that those who do know are split: many of them believe us to be “the perfect couple,” but many of them also openly call us fools for “tying ourselves down so quickly.” While I can see where they are coming from, I believe A and myself to be anything but stupid: we are in love.
And our love is very, very real.
I guess the purpose behind creating this blog is to alleviate many of the frustrations that I feel as a young bride-to-be, and to also keep all of my scattered wedding thoughts organized in one place. I want to be able to reveal my life and my dreams without shame—because, after all, each of you is a faceless username on a computer screen, and you cannot truly harm me.
I want to be able to share my happiness and to alleviate the fears of girls like me (because I am still very much a girl, not yet fully a woman) regarding marriage, or even long-term relationships. Maybe even relationships in general! It’s true that my life does not revolve around A, but he is a large part of it, and will only take over more next year (our date is set for October 3, 2015.) I honestly just want to be able to vent, and this blog provides me with that opportunity, and I hope that I can help someone out there, somehow.
That’s all I have for this introduction. My next post will give some more background information into myself and into A, and the one following it will hopefully detail more of our love story, but I don’t know what kind of schedule I’m going to be on here. There will be times when I cluster post and times I go without posting for a bit, so please forgive me, dear readers! I hope you’ll all remain for this crazy journey of love and life.