
Oh my goodness – February – the month of love. I want a second wedding in the Islands complete with good friends, good food and plenty of sun! I want a shiny new 2 carat “rock” on my left ring finger to symbolize our decade of bliss. I have been married to my handsome hunk of a man for 11 strong years. And today I am wanting to talk about it!
Let me just start by saying that getting married at age 21 is not a simple feat. I had been, since age 16, planning to meet my husband at age 21. Dreaming about marriage was my favorite pass time as a girl. So when college hit, the search was on!! What fun – at first – but over the years, the search became slow and painful. As I approached 20 – I felt a little hopeless as all 61 of my prior boyfriends had been flops.
It seemed that I was just in love with love – seeking a real union with men who were not worth my time. I would go into relationships thinking and exuding “marry me” and he’d be thinking “pass the blunt”. I dreaded finding out that my boyfriends were all marijuana heads, or video game freaks, or just seeing so many other women that polygamy was the only serious marital arrangement I could expect.
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