Dana and I bought our rings at an event called “Festival of the Last Minute” in Portland at Saturday Market. It’s the last drive before Christmas, and it is a ton of fun. We found no end to the humor that two ADD people bought commitment rings at a ceremony with the title, but hey. We were young (no we weren’t) and stupid (actually, not so much). I remember that day so fondly, because we took a picture of our hands with our rings on and everyone thought we’d gotten married, and it was just the first set of rings we’d ever worn. I think we’d been living together for a few years at that point. Yes, we had our legal documentation saying we were domestic partners, but had never gone through a wedding. We’ve been planning it since that night we won trivia and figured out we didn’t love each other. We were in love with each other. But somehow, that did not translate into ring shopping. Again, two ADD people. Festival of the Last Minute.
Hundreds of comments poured in, and I felt so blessed and supported in my decision to marry Dana when everyone said it wouldn’t work. Who said it didn’t work? Seven years is enough time to really know someone, to really know what love is.
Love is when Dana has hives.
Love is when I am ash-white and sweating because my brain chemicals aren’t right.
Love is knowing that Dana and I would both step in front of a bus for the other one.
Love is accidentally forgetting we’re not married anymore, because my drive to protect her is fiercely engaged.
I realized it when I was walking out to my car at Aaron’s, that I cannot forget we aren’t married anymore. It’s just not possible for me, because I will as long as I let myself. I’m amazing like that. If it hurts once, why not let it hurt a thousand times?
I slipped off my ring and dropped it somewhere in the grass…. walked a few feet…. and then I couldn’t see it anymore. I panicked because I couldn’t see it and thought, BUT THAT IS THE POINT.
……and slowly kept walking.
Stories That Are All True 