53. Le Boyfriend, well, Le Husband dispatch
Going from friend to boyfriend to fiancé to husband is a rollercoaster I would hop on any given day. Here's a little love letter about & to my life partner.
The institution of marriage comes with a lot of outdated and dubious baggage under her white, perfectly sewn dress. Many of its references, motivations, and details I don’t agree with. However, I always knew I would get married.
What I didn’t know was to whom.
It’s December 2021 and my husband’s name is Pablo. Mystery solved.
Still, a bizarre experience to use the word “husband” in writing and/or out loud. It’s one of those words that fall into the far-away-unattainable-terms-to-understand-in-my-own-skin category. Just like “adult”.
When I was a little girl -still am one, but for the purpose of my husband not feeling bad for having sex with me I’ll say I’m a woman-. Where were we?
Oh, right, when I was a little girl I used to fantasize about being married. Not the wedding, not the proposal, but the daily routine of being married. I would daydream of the small, dull, and repetitive stuff, you know, where the real beauty and happiness are found. Waking up next to that person, laying a kiss on his forehead, grinding and brewing a fresh batch of coffee, reading the newspaper together, discussing interesting stories, having a quick but informed debate. Right before kissing each other goodbye and heading to the office to our workspaces.
All of those morning specifics, I now have.