The Plural of I

It’s been eleven years. Today marks the day I waved goodbye to singleness. I became part of a package deal, everything now having to come in twos, buying larger and booking plane seats in duals. Today is my eleven year anniversary.

The funny thing is, I never once minded since that first night in our hotel room, sharing a bed with this man who is always part of the equation now. And believe me, that’s saying a lot in my mind. Before then, I had concerned myself only and ever with myself.

So, to walk down the isle and stand before friends and family and say, “I do,” and really mean it, well, that did mean a lot. It still means a lot. It means that I will forever have to decide what meal will work for two, what money will be spent to last for two, what furniture to buy that will fit two.

They seem like small things, but they mean everything. See, being part of two means you can’t be selfish about anything. And that’s counter culture, anathema to our current society. It screams anti-establishment. We live in an era of freedom for self. Magazine covers scream, “Pamper yourself in 10 different ways,” “Find yourself in life, career, home,” and above all, “Never sacrifice yourself for another.”

And then we wonder why marriages are failing us left and right. How can anything survive when there is no sharing, no complicity, no unity of being. How can I look at my children in their sweet faces and say love can last, if I can’t first look in my husbands eyes and say my love will last.

Yes, duality is hard. It means there is always someone else in your head. There is always the specter of another hovering above us. However, though on some days the idea of being the lone ranger seems like a fantastic idea, being part of a set is a great thing. It means there is always a friend on your side. There is always a cheer section for your life. There is always a companion for the unknown. And for that, I would repeat those vows all over again.