This is exactly how I feel:

I know that whatever date we pick in late 2013 won’t be the day I think of as our anniversary. We were joined for life the moment he asked me out on July 7, 2007. Will we be “newlyweds” next year? I think not. We’ve already been newlyweds. On our anniversary in 2014, when people ask how long we’ve been married, I’ll probably say “six years.” Because that’s much closer than the truth than “one.”

It was a really good day when we went to the courthouse and had the funny judge make a speech. And the trip to St. Louis after that, emailing people that we’d eloped as we rode on the bus, that was fun, too. But it was just another fun day among many other fun days. It was in no way a momentous occasion. The day we met, however, was. We started living together almost immediately (on the second date), so we knew from the start that it was big.

Paper-signing, however? I don’t know, I see it like giving the Caesar what’s his but not investing this tribute with my soul. The government likes people to sign stuff, so whatever. Real marriages are contracted differently. And they are dissolved differently, too. I know that only too well given that I divorced my first husband officially four years after leaving him and never seeing him again.


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