One year ago, today, I had to teach myself to stop referring to Leo as my boyfriend and start calling him my, *gulp* "husband."
After nine and a half years of dating, that was hard. I'm pretty sure I've called him "my boyfriend" as recently as last week. Luckily, I mostly need to refer to him as "Leo" which has not changed since getting married.
Leo's been unemployed since February of last year. I work from home. We have spent, quite literally, almost every waking hour and all non-waking hours together, in our first year of marriage. One of two things could have happened in that time. Either one of us was going to snap, Lizzy Borden style, or we'd adapt, adjust and grow even closer. I think we've managed the latter, thanks in part to having saved up a bit of money, and having fantastic dogs to keep us laughing. (Seriously, how can anyone stay mad when dogs are being goofy?)
In truth, being married doesn't feel any different than not being married. It really was a formality for us, to ensure that everything we had was co-owned, that we'd be able to see each other in the hospital if something horrible happened and to ensure that we could take advantage of the other person's insurance, should one of us end up unemployed.
But even if our intentions in getting married, weren't romantic, I'm still really glad we did. Leo makes me laugh every day, we don't fight about religion, politics, money, whether or not to have kids, or really much of anything at all (except the merits of freezing one's head. Sorry, I'm just not sold on the viability of a Futurama like future for us.) If money were no object, we might have flown somewhere beautiful or taken off a week and had a belated honeymoon. But maybe we'd have done exactly what we did, which was to pack up the puppies, drive to the coast and enjoy a fantastically beautiful Friday and a big juicy burger we could share with the mutts.
Either way, it was a very happy anniversary celebration for all of us.