This Sunday marks 12 years of marriage for Husband and I. It is no surprise that after so many years together, I feel our relationship can best be summed up in a Billy Madison movie quote. Movies are kind of our thing. In fact, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but Husband may be my only equal in remembering and quoting movie lines. He gets me, I guess is the larger point there.
Clearly we were just a couple of kids in love. And clearly I married someone with a sense of humor because sideburns.
Here we are, roughly 12 years, 2 kids, 2 dogs, 8 houses, and countless date nights later. ‘Burns replaced with beard. I have seen every variation of facial hair. You don’t even know…
It’s been twelve years of Husband taking off his socks every night before bed, rolling them into a ball, and throwing them at me in the dark (he awards himself double points if he can get me in the face.)
Twelve years of him ruining all my yawns by sticking his finger in my mouth mid-yawn. So gross. Do you understand how annoying it is to have all your yawns interrupted? Not to mention unsanitary? Do you have any idea?
I can’t even tell you.
It’s been twelve years of him holding his hand up and waiting patiently for me to high five him, and then dissing me the second I reciprocate. It’s not even like I’m falling for it anymore. I know exactly what he’s going to do. It’s just that he’s relentless. He will leave his hand in the air for SO long, that I finally just give in. And then whoosh- my hand falls through the air at the last second, much to his delight.
Twelve years of me coming in for a kiss- you know, eyes closed, leaning in, really anticipating a good kiss- only to be startled by him biting my lip, or blowing air into my mouth (or his favorite), letting his mouth hang slack while he pretends to have come down with a sudden bout of narcolepsy.
Twelve years of him insisting I get into bed first, giving me a full ten seconds to get cozy in the dark, leaning on the mattress so I think he is climbing into bed (he really commits), and then yanking the covers entirely off the bed in one swift motion.
Much like a 5th grade boy, his efforts to annoy me are tireless and without bounds.
I know, try not to be jealous.
But here’s the thing: It works.
Somehow, it works.
He knows how to make me laugh. And laughter is a huge deal for me. I don’t know if it’s juvenile and obnoxious, or if it’s cute and funny, but banter is basically our love language.
Whether it’s by getting a rise out of me, catching me off guard, or simply going to extreme lengths he can always make me laugh. And that is invaluable.
In our 12 years together we have had our share of real struggles. Our love has been seasoned with hardships and joys, it’s grown down roots, and weathered some storms. I’m sure there will be more storms to endure. But if I’m going to burrow down into a foxhole with someone until the storm passes, I want that someone to be him.
He is my person.
He takes care of our hearts. He is rugged in the all the right ways. He’s strong, tender, and wise. He is clever, kind, and good. But at the end of the day, it’s the funny that I just can’t resist. Do yourself a favor. Marry someone funny. I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.
photos courtesy of Traci Buck Photography and Richelle Photography