13
Anyone who says marriage is all doves and roses is blowing smoke. The fact is that they have most definitely never been married before and don’t have a clue what they are talking about.
Marriage is hard. It's work. It's years of trying to get two people on the same page when they’re both writing totally different stories. It’s a constant battle; a fight to see who's in control and who's on top.
Once you have that realized you need to throw in some further complications to the mix like finances, career, and family. Stir all these together, and you have a recipe for disaster that leaves you wondering why you ever began to bake it in the first place.
Over half of marriages end in divorce. Before I got married, I used to assume that that was a gross exaggeration. Now that I am married, I can’t help but sometimes wonder why that number isn't higher.
And yet, despite the way I preach and complain, if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. Marriage is funny like that, and being in love is even funnier.
The truth is, looking back, it wasn't all that bad. In fact, our broke years were some of my happiest times. There's something about struggling together, scraping and saving for a common cause that bonds people and cements a relationship deeper than you can ever imagine.
When I think about Edward, not a moment goes by that I don't wish I could have made him happier. I was always trying to make him happy, but I still always feel like I could have done more.
Yes, we fought. All married couples do. Yet, not for a second would I trade all our fights and arguments, fake as they were, for all the money in the world. It was these fights that brought us even closer, helping us work through the problems.
They say there's a thin line between love and hate and yet I say, the real line is between giving up on a relationship and giving it your all. Edward was my everything—my life, my breath, and my reason for living. When everything is boiled down, it really was as simple as that.
I remember the day that we walked to the apartment after the courthouse wedding, and he flat out refused to step inside.
"What's wrong?"
"Well…?" he said, looking at me blankly.
"Well, what?"
"Have I taught you nothing? Don't tell me the romance ends now."
I cracked a smile, sweeping him into my arms as I carried him in. "Never."
"Are you going to take my virginity away?" He batted his eyelashes at me in a playful manner.
"Again?" I asked, and he smacked me playfully on my arm.
"I hate you."
"Hate you, too. But I want to hate you for the rest of our lives together."
"I'll do my best."
"Won't be easy."
"Why's that?" he asked.
"'Cause it's much too easy to love you instead." I lay Edward on the bed and hovered over him.
He was so beautiful, so sweet. I brushed my fingers through his strawberry blonde hair and kissed him deeply, passionately, the way a man you love should be kissed. The way you kiss the man you are fully prepared to spend the rest of your life with.
That said, we were broke. Worse than broke.
If it weren't for the money, we'd both put aside, and how good Edward was at managing it, we'd have been on the street after the first few months.
On top of that, we found other ways to get by.
He became an expert at clipping coupons and hunting deals.
We opted for a staycation for our honeymoon rather than going somewhere exotic. When most people say staycation they mean getting some local hotel rather than leaving the city. We couldn't even do that. Instead, our staycation meant we had to stay at our apartment.
But like I said, I was determined to make Edward happy, no matter what. If we were going to take a few days off and stay home, then I'd make it the best honeymoon he ever imagined.
As he entered, I blindfolded him with my hands, teasing him as I lead him inside. It was only when I’d built up the anticipation to the breaking point that I released them, letting him see what I had done. He gasped in shock when he saw it, his eyes watering.
He said he'd always wanted to go to Paris, like the movies, so I thought why not bring Paris to him?
When he was away, I had brought in a bunch of stuff I'd bought that had a Parisian theme. Hot French bread, crepes, red French wine. I even found pictures of the Eiffel Tower that I plastered up over the walls.
I did some Photoshop work on some photos I'd taken of him with my phone and put them behind famous French landmarks wrapped in a photo album.
I even found that painting he'd shown me at the Portland Art Museum and framed it for him. Hot bubble baths, candles, a dinner I cooked and soft music. I didn't allow him to lift a finger. If I was going to make him the happiest husband of all time, it was going to start right now.
And after all that was through, we made love. It was the most passionate experience of my life, and I swear to God it lasted all day and all night.
He was my Edward, and I didn't want it any other way.
There’s always a thing called the honeymoon period. This usually extends for a few weeks after a marriage begins; slowly deteriorating with time. For us, the honeymoon period never ended. I wish I could say that it was because we were so deeply in love that nothing could change it. But really it was just that we didn’t last long enough for it to.
Sure, we had our little nit-picking fights about things; like how I hated when he put his underwear on the shower rod to dry. And he liked to complain about how he almost broke his neck every time I put my shoes in the middle of the living room. Or how I'd stick the take-out containers in the sink instead of the trash. But all of this was normal. In fact, it was healthy.
The truth was, I liked picking up after him, and he liked complaining about me. It's what made us, us.
"Maybe you should beat me up?"
"What? No," I said.
"Why not?" he teased.
"I could never hurt you. Why would you say such a thing?" I tapped his nose with my finger.
"Because then, instead of getting evicted, I could stay in a battered survivors’ shelter and sneak you in at night. Great government cheese, too."
"That's not even funny," I said, sitting up and crossing my arms.
When a man is struggling to take care of the person he loves, he should never tease him about that. It only served to highlight that I wasn’t doing my job properly. Although Edward said he didn’t care, and although I believed him, I cared. It hurt every time to think about.
"Oh, live a little, so sensitive. Or better yet, maybe I should beat you up," he said, hugging me.
"You want me to beat you up?" I joked, tickling him.
He laughed. "No, stop."
"'Cause I can beat you up real good," I told him, getting excited as I wrestled him to the bed.
"I bet I can take you." He wrapped his legs around my waist, putting me in a vice grip.
"Mmm… Why do you try to push my buttons?" I asked him, rumbling in his ear.
"Because you like your buttons pushed."
I kissed him. "Who says?"
"I say."
"And who are you?" I asked him with a wink.
"Your husband, that's who. So, I make the rules."
"Oh, do you?"
"Yeah, I wear the pants in the family."
"Not for long," I said as I went for his pants, quickly wrestling them off.
That’s how these things usually went down. We’d start off having a small argument and it would more often than not end with us making love until one of us forgave the other.
I guess we made love a lot more than most couples, partly because I couldn't keep my hands off of him and partly because having sex didn't cost a penny. Free entertainment that blew all others out of the water. It was either that or our movie nights in our apartment together.
There were, of course, other ways of keeping ourselves entertained that didn’t cost any money. The museum was free on Wednesdays, so there was that, but I was never really one for the museum. Some of my favorite times came from simply lying in the bathtub together, taking a bubble bath or when we'd take a bike ride through the city at night when no one was around. These were always amazing because it was just the two of us. It felt like we had the whole world to ourselves.
Another money saving technique we came up with… well, not so much technique, but a personal discovery was our love of Ramen noodles. We became connoisseurs of Ramen noodles during that time like no other.
Edward could do some wonders with chicken Ramen noodles that you wouldn’t believe. And when he would mix it with the Thai sauce? I swear, without a word of a lie, that it was better than a five-star meal.
He said the secret is to crack an egg into it while it's still boiling. Even better, throw peas in.
Times were so tough that often we’d be down to our last pack of Ramen noodles and I'd tell him that I wasn't hungry and that I'd had a stomach virus or whatever other excuse I could think of. All as a ploy to make sure that he was happy and fed.
"You've had that stomach virus for six days now." He'd glare at me. "There's plenty for both of us. Besides, I can always go to the grocery store and have their samples. I flirt with the baker there, so I get whatever I want."
"I hope you don't flirt with him too hard," I told him.
"She's a woman, and I've always thought about experimenting."
I’d laugh, and he’d joke. We always made sure to make light of our current situation, it seemed like the best thing that we could do. But honestly, only a very small part of me was laughing. It tore my heart out how hard I had made things for him.
He deserved so much more than what I had to offer. I worked a few janitor jobs during the night and knocked on doors during the day, trying to get singing and bass playing gigs. I thought this was going to be a lot easier than it turned out. Aaron had really messed things up for me.
The only gigs I could get were birthday parties and bar mitzvahs, and these really didn’t pay very well.
The majority of our money came from Edward who made money tailoring clothes for people. He was quite good at it too, good enough to pay for all the utilities and most of the bills at least.
For a dude though, having everything paid for by your struggling husband, it was nothing short of humiliating. I looked at my man, so exhausted sometimes from working overtime that he'd fall asleep right in the middle of our conversations and I'd put a blanket over him, kiss him on his forehead and watch him sleep. All the while wondering what I had done to deserve someone so amazing.
He was my prince, my king, and he deserved so much better.
What did I do to deserve such an amazing man who stuck with me and believed in me no matter what? One that encouraged me and didn't give up on me? One that saw me as some divine being that I knew I wasn’t? It was only through his strength that I had the will to keep going, to keep trying. I constantly wished that I could return the favor and hated myself every day that I couldn’t.
I'd never met anyone like him before and today, to this date, still never have.
He was one in a million. More like one in a billion. They say you're lucky if you fall in love once in a lifetime.
I say if you're lucky enough to find him, hold on to him. Never let him go, and even that’s not enough. Sometimes you have to fight. You have to fight to keep him once you have him. Never take him for granted. Never stop being grateful for the little things because once he's gone, he's gone. And when that happens you’ll look back and wish that you had done all the things you told yourself you would do.
Never take your love for granted.
I didn't know that then, of course. I was young and stupid. I was too busy thinking about the future when I should have been living in the moment. I didn't have much back then. But I did know when I had something good. And that something good was Edward.
"Promise me, no matter what, you'll never stop singing. You'll never stop your dream," he said one night in all seriousness as we lay in bed together, holding each other.
"All right."
"Promise," he demanded.
"I promise."
"And a promise is a promise. Pinky swear."
I smiled, looping my pinky around his. It was such an innocent gesture that meant so much. I thought nothing of it at the time, though I wish I had paid more attention. I wish that I had held him then and never let him go. I wish that I had done more to try and succeed. I wished for a lot of things. But wishing isn’t going to change the past.
But, despite the tough times, we stuck it out. Love made us stick it out. Over time, things started to get a little better. We saw a little more food in the house, and the lights would only stay off for a few days at a time instead of a few weeks.
I was also happy that his business was starting to kick in. I figured that finally all of his hard work was paying off. That was until I noticed a lot of his equipment was missing.
"What happened to that other sewing machine you had?" I asked him one day.
He wouldn't even look at me as he answered. "Got rid of it. It was broken."
I had known Edward long enough now to know when he was lying. The machine was practically brand new, and there was no way it would break so easily. When I found the pawn shop receipt the next day, I didn't say a thing. But when I found out that he had stopped going to fashion school because he couldn't afford it anymore, I knew that it was time for me to act. I had coasted by long enough, relying on our love and nothing more to get us by. Well, I wasn’t going to let him put his dreams on hold for me. I had to do something and drastic.