I’ve been married now for 90 days! Three whole months! I realize that that is not a long time by pretty much all standards, though, my marriage has lasted longer than Britney Spears and Kim Kardashian’s first marriages. That counts for something, right? No? Fair enough.
It all still seems a little crazy to me. I haven’t even known him for a year (we’re about 2 weeks shy of that). I only met him in person at the end of last December. And yet we’ve been married for 3 months. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change anything. Meeting and marrying Mr. Lyndsy are easily at the top of list of things to happen in my life (as it should be).
Because we lived 8,000 miles apart before we got married, we didn’t live together beforehand. I know that’s how things used to work all the time, and how it still works for a lot of people. I never thought that would be me though. I really subscribed to the theory that the best thing to do is to live with your future partner before marriage to see whether you can live together without attempting to murder each other. He leaves his socks out so you plan to strangle him with them. You refuse to put dishes away, so he thinks about breaking them over your head.
Here are some things I’ve learned about us.
1. Neither of us likes to put away laundry.
Once I figured out how to use the washing machine, I was on a roll. We have to hang it to dry and I can get as far as folding it, but actually carrying it to the bedroom seems beyond me. I think it’s more convenient for him that it’s on the table, so that’s where it stays. We never actually eat at the table, or use it for anything else really.
2. We are TERRIBLE at sharing the bed and blankets. I would swear it started with him, but he says it’s me. All I know is that when I first got here, I woke up freezing, a lot. If you believe me, when he turns, he takes the blankets with him. If you believe him (which you shouldn’t), I’m the the one who turns with them. We both toss and turn a lot.
He’s also not great about sharing the space. I rolled over one night and just about lost an eye to his elbow. Another night I rolled back to the center of the bed and ran smack into him. I woke up by myself one day because, as Mr. Lyndsy tells it, I went to bed early because I was exhausted, but he was still up playing video games. He came in to go to sleep, but I was sprawled across the entire bed, so rather than wake me up, he slept on the futon in the second bedroom. I do have a habit of taking over a bed. (But only when I’m the only person in it. I think.)
For the blanket issue at least, we came up with a solution early on.
We now each have our own blankets! Complete with duvet covers we picked out ourselves. I like how it ended up looking a little like a wedding dress and tux. And we don’t have to worry about trying to steal the others’s blanket anymore. I find his to be too scratchy and Mr. Lyndsy thinks it’s soft. I’m sure he thinks mine is too soft. Either way, we’re both much happier now.
3. None of this matters. His dirty laundry ends up everywhere. I leave a trail of stuff behind me no matter where I go. I took over his favorite corner of the couch. He leaves the TV on when he’s done watching. We don’t care. For us, the most important thing is that we’re together. We spent so long apart while desperately wanting to be near each other, that all of this is just not important. We still love spending time together. I’m overjoyed when he comes home from work.
It probably helps that he subscribes to the “happy wife, happy life” theory. You know how I know? He took me to Disney on Ice.
I know you’re not reading this, Mr. Lyndsy, but I love you to infinity and beyond.