Steve and I have only been married four years, but we’ve been together for eleven. I came to the realization on one of our long drives that I’ve spent a third of my life with him. Isn’t that remarkable? A third of my time on this planet has been spent as his partner, by his side. Certainly not always physically, but we’ve been an ongoing pair all the same.
I don’t think there are secrets to a successful marriage. I think it’s different for every couple who is in a long term relationship. I am also not claiming that we have it all together and that everything has been flawless. We’ve had bumps. BIG bumps. And we also have quite a long way to go if the Universe grants us a long life together. One thing that does strike me about “us” is that I am not “still in love with him”, rather, “I am in love with him AGAIN”. I find myself noticing his little goings on at work that make me smile and I fall in love again. I look over at him asleep on the couch with our dog and my heart trips into the love again. We go on date nights every Monday and drink silly amounts of wine and whoops, I’m headfirst into a big stinky pool of new love. Our country elects an idiot of a commander in chief and my husband gets angry and active, and I fall in love with a rebel. We are made godparents of our nieces and I have the pleasure of becoming smitten with a handsome papa bear.
Steve was brave enough to take me on. I’m a mess. I’m broken, unstable, irrational and impulsive. I mean, I have good qualities, but I’m a lot to handle. He takes them in stride. He diffuses. He stays cool, sometimes infuriatingly so, but it’s also comforting. He lets me be weird. He lets me fly off the handle. And in return I think I add some levity to the gravity of his brain. I can poke at the right places when things get too serious. Steve has amazing plans for our future. I try to make sure things are amazing now. Two opposite, corner pieces, making our own messy, beautiful puzzle.
We are so lucky to have each other. In this world. In this business. In this time. And I hope that everyone has the great fortune of finding their love. Find a love that is irrational. Find a love that is messy. A love that tells you you look pretty in the morning, when you know you don’t. A clothes thrown to the floor kind of love. A drink like you’re still twenty one love. A cry into their lap, celebrate their victory, call their bluff kind of love. Find a love worth giving a third of your life to, and you’ll want to give them all of it.
Liz Shivener 