I was 18 years old when we first started talking about “when we’re old and grey.” When I came home and told my Mum that we were planning on getting married her reaction wasn’t quite what I was looking for, she was wary of me committing so young.
One of Adam’s friends took it upon himself to tell me to back off, I asked why he was telling me he had a problem with Adam and I being engaged, wasn’t he Adam’s friend? I was so furious that I made him drive me to Adam’s place and tell Adam what he’d said to me. I don’t think he was expecting that.
In the end we took the path of least resistance and agreed to wait a while before making anything official. It didn’t really matter to us in any practical sense as we had no intention of either moving in together or marrying till a few years down the track anyway. But I’m still kind of irritated by the assumption that I didn’t know what I was doing way back then.
Eventually there was a dinner, and a proposal, and a ring. Which all felt kind of staged, as though we were going through the motions in order to satisfy other people’s need for formalities. I think I’m a bit deficient in the romance department because I’m quite sure Adam remembers it all rather differently. We told my parents and his, my parents threw an engagement party for us and I gave up half my wardrobe to storage of household goods that wouldn’t be used for another 18 months or so.
Originally we’d planned for a wedding date after I finished my university degree, but after a year off to work in a bookshop and then starting over in a new course I was still a student when the 1st of Feb 1992 arrived. We were married in the church I’d grown up in, I was 21 and as long as there was no mention of the word “obey” and we were “husband and wife” rather than “man and wife” I was happy.
18 years, 3 kids and a whole lot of living later I’m still happy, still married and still in love.