15 years of marriage has taught me a lot

There are a lot of ways one could describe marriage. Attach just about any adjective to “marriage is…” and it is likely to apply. After all, two individuals—no matter how compatible—will experience both good times and bad that ebb and flow along the ever-flowing current of life.

I bring up marriage during this month’s column for a very specific reason. I’ve decided to take a page out of the Mark White playbook and talk about a milestone I recently celebrated.

On Friday, July 12, my wife, Amanda, and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary.

Our story, however, is much different than that of the one White shared about him and his wife several weeks ago and I assume that it likely contrasts wildly from many of whom are reading these words now.

We formally dated for just over a week before tying the knot. We did not have a ceremony. Our family was not present. In fact, our family didn’t even know. We got married in a living room, very unceremoniously, while wearing shorts and t-shirts.

My friend, Glen Smith, was my best man. His grandmother, Inis Reynolds, was the priest that officiated the wedding and his grandfather, Kenneth Reynolds, was the other witness to our marriage. The previously-mentioned living room where this all took place? That belonged to them as well.

No, we weren’t really close to my friend’s grandparents. No, we didn’t plan any of this in advance. No, we didn’t really have any idea what we were doing. But, we did it.

I suppose I should provide a little more background, though. We weren’t strangers prior to dating. Actually, we had sort of “dated” previously, but I guess it was never really official. In case the quotation marks didn’t give it away, I use the term “dated” loosely.

We met at Whitley County High School. It was about a week into the new school year. She had previously been in a different class that period, but dropped it and changed her schedule, which landed her right in Mr. Rickett’s health class with me. Since she had just been assigned a new schedule, she arrived in class later than everyone else.

I still vividly remember her walking into the room. If you’ve ever seen one of those cheesy, slow-motion movie montages when a guy sees a beautiful woman for the first time that he subsequently falls for, it was a lot like that. Or, at least, that’s how I recall it. I was instantly enamored.

For some reason, all the students (including myself) had gravitated to the far side of the room where the windows were, so she sat near the door in an almost-entirely empty section of desks. I didn’t really have a plan, but I knew I had to devise a sensible, non-intrusive strategy to get me to the other side of the room that appeared somewhat organic.

To be honest, I don’t remember at this point what I came up with, but it was effective. I ended up at the desk next to hers.

We began talking and getting to know one another. I learned that we had quite a bit in common, especially when it came to our musical tastes.

We would pass notes to one another during class and eventually started doing so when we would meet in the hallway, too. I would print out the lyrics to songs I liked that reminded me of her and give them to her. She kept those lyrics, along with the notes we exchanged, in a special binder all to themselves.

We began talking outside of school, often staying on the phone for hours at a time and even sometimes falling asleep together while still on the phone.

Everything culminated one morning as we left health class. We stood in this cubby just outside the doorway of the room where we first met and shared our first kiss. At the time, it was equal parts magical and terrifying. The reasoning for the latter? We both had significant others.

Needless to say, things didn’t really work out.

That continued to be the case over the years as we would lose connection with one another and then eventually be brought back into each other’s orbit every few years, just like a yo-yo. But each and every time that would happen, one or both of us would be in a committed relationship. And while there was a time or two during that period where some lines became blurred, nothing ever fell into place as it should.

Yet, once it did, we ran headlong into marriage without too much of a second thought. If I’m being completely honest, it was kind of a dare. One of us brought it up, neither of us thought the other would go through with it and we both ended up winning.

I’ve learned a lot about marriage since that day.

Marriage is hard. Marriage is joyous. Marriage is sharing. Marriage is sacrificing. Marriage is honest. Marriage is compassionate, caring and persistent. Marriage is a lot of things to a lot of different people. And though it has sometimes felt like we’ve been through almost as much bad as we have good, we’ve still stood together through it all.

Thank you, Amanda, for giving me your best for the past 15 years…especially when I didn’t always deserve it. I love you.