Our story? Well, I married my best friend. You always hear that, right? These couples who spend all their time together. It’s beautiful, I guess. We met in middle school and bonded over Zelda games and Robert Jordan novels. We sat together in every class we could and did marching band and lacrosse together. We hung out most weekends. We got into the same college and didn’t even talk about being roommates, we just put each other down on the housing form. If you’d asked me then I guess I would have said sure, I loved him, you know, no homo. He was my best friend.
We got married to scam the FAFSA. We’d intended to be married for maybe 6 weeks, then one of us would have a night out on the town and pick up some nice girl, and we’d get divorced, cause: infidelity. Simple, right?
It was the start of our senior year and we were both drowning in schoolwork. He was studying electrical engineering and I was slowly dissolving my brain with a biology-philosophy double major. Weeks turned into months, and we were still married. We graduated, and we were still married. I got into medical school and he got a good job with benefits in the same city and, you know, we liked living together and his benefits were better than mine, and after all, we were still married.
I didn’t realize what deep shit I was in until a couple of years later. We’d both been too wrapped up in our jobs to date. We were out at a bar one night and this gorgeous girl comes up and starts hitting on him and I felt my stomach drop like a rock. He gave me this look that I couldn’t parse at the time- I know now that he had realized months ago that he loved me, but was still wrestling with his feelings and thought I’d never reciprocate- and I put on a brave face and told him to have fun and bolted. Ran home and sobbed my eyes out, confused and aching.
I asked him how it was the next day, trying to sound flip and failing. He’d laughed it off, putting on a brave face in his own way. He didn’t tell me then, but he hadn’t hooked up with her. Neither of us wanted to bring it up, so we just… didn’t talk about it. We didn’t get divorced.
The next few months were a mess. We argued for the first time since we were kids, over nothing, again and again. I pined after him like a tree in a forest, scared to death and consumed by guilt when I found myself undone by thoughts of the stubble on his jaw scraping against my skin, of the soft light in his beautiful brown eyes. It finally hit me when I saw a couple of teenagers walking down the street, holding hands and kissing every few steps. They just looked so beautiful and happy and I realized… I wanted that. I couldn’t keep it to myself for another minute. I went home to my husband and spilled my guts, told him I loved him and I was sorry. He laughed so hard he cried, and crowded me up against the fridge and kissed me within an inch of my life. And that’s it, that’s the story of how we got married. And then fell in love.
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