Four.
And yet it seems so much longer than that.
And not in, "Oh Jesus this just keeps on going and going and going" way. Because I freaking love being married and cherish and adore J to absolute pieces.
It's in a "all the beautiful parts of my life I share with you and it seems it's been this fantastic for much more than just four years."
Yes, we are one of those married couples. You know, those couples whose relationship is all roses and sunshine. I can't even pretend we're not.
He's my best friend.
He's too smart to let me fight with him.
He's too thoughtful to give me a reason to.
We are a team. And we're such a team. On everything.
We parent equally and together. We hold the same beliefs and uphold them with our children.
We see eye to eye on most everything, and the things we disagree on are the little things in life, which we can amicably agree to disagree on.
Being married to J is awesome. It's definitely in the top 5 of "Best Things to Ever Happen in My Life." Obviously H and B are tied at #1.
It's funny, too, because I was never going to get married. Ever.
So the fact that I did, and at such an incredibly young age is laughable. Even to me.
Before J and I were ever even serious, my dad asked me where our relationship was going. I remember telling him, "Dad, I'm not a marrying girl. But if I was, I know he'd be the one." And we hadn't even said I love yous at this point in our relationship. I just knew.
Truthfully, J and I never dated. He whisked me away to Spain my sophomore year of college, while I freaked out that I was going to be human trafficked or something. It was the first spontaneous or adventurous thing I'd ever done in my life. Because up until that point, everything had been well thought and laid out. I had a life plan, and J, nor any other man, was a part of that plan.
And then suddenly he was.
It was like a whirlwind love story, baby.
Just the other day J said to me, "Remember when you broke up with me?"
"Yes," I answered. "And we never got back together. We just got married and had kids."
We were officially "dating" for like a whole weekend. Then I freaked out and was like, "Whoa, Ki! This is not a part of the plan. STOP."
But it didn't work.
Because he was it for me. He is it for me.
A proposal in Paris, a wedding I didn't have to plan, and wham! We became forever, baby. Just like that.
And he's been so amazing. Such a trooper and a pillar of support.
I've grown so much as a person and human being, and he's supported that growth through and through, even when some of it made him raise his eyebrows - healthy food, home birth, peaceful parenting, etc., etc.
Sometimes I think it was because of him that I was able to find my voice. That I was able to shed the people-pleasing, quiet, sweet girl and not give a fuck what others think about me. I can be loud and definitive, and although my intention is never to hurt other people, I also don't have the need to be so P.C.
I got blessed with J. I certainly wasn't looking for him. I wasn't hoping for a white knight to come in and sweep me off my feet because I was a woman warrior and I knew I could take care of myself, always.
I wouldn't call J a knight anyway. He's charming enough, for sure, but his personality and sense of humor is as twisted as mine; he'd never be knight material.
But he's mine. He's my partner. My equal. He's the person I look forward growing old with (admittedly, one of us will get older sooner, bahaha). I love that we get to share everything together. I love that I can talk to him about anything and everything and know he's always got an open mind. That he will never judge me. That he is willing to tell me like it is and doesn't feel the need to sugar coat things.
I was a girl with a plan who shunned romance and love in favor of all things concrete and definitive. I thought love was a cosmic joke, but it turns out the joke was on me.
Because I'm hopelessly in love with a man I have the honor of calling my husband.
And it doesn't get any better than that.
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