Jan 11, 2016

For the longest time, I remember shunning the notions of the term “hopeless romantic”. I found it sappy and downright sad – blame the use of hopeless and its penchant for sounding too negative.

Yet, even as I’d cringe and think of all the other qualities I’d like to find myself associated with, I couldn’t shrug off feeling cheated – as if someone took something away from me even if I was the one guilty…

The Background

When I was little, I would look at photos of my parents. Mom was dressed in white with a matching hat on her head and dad dapper in a black suit. I remember trying to figure out if mom grew after her pregnancy because no way was she only as tall as my dad’s shoulders. Turns out she was sitting on a relatively high chair, I just didn’t see because of her dress. I would look at those photos whenever I’d pass by them and think, “I wonder how my wedding would be like.”

I never wondered about who I’d be with. I’d just think about how the day would pan out. 

Will I turn into bridezilla? Would I fit into my gown? What if I trip while I’m walking down the aisle?! Would everything be perfect? Where would the reception be? How many tiers would the cake have? Should I still have a little couple placed on top or is that too cheesy?

I questioned the details, instead of thinking about who I’d be saying “I do” to. I questioned the details but I never answered them. 

The Question

When Vergs asked me to marry him, it was beautiful. Not everyone knows the real story of how it went, and I’d like to keep it at that. That story is ours. That moment is ours to keep. 

I’ve gotten a slew of questions since posting on social media so I figured I’ll just do a run down here.

Did I expect the proposal? No. 

Did I know we were going to get married? Yes. We’ve been talking about long term plans even before he left for bootcamp. 

Am I pregnant? I could hurl a thousand curse words at you for thinking I am, but I’ll just be polite and say “no”. 

The Sense of Belonging

I’ve been married for officially 19 days now and the feeling is still so surreal. But at the same time, it feels… right. I look at my left hand and see the two rings and I just have to stop whatever it is that I’m doing to take a breath. 

I’m married. I belong to someone and he belongs to me. 

So many of my life decisions involve me trying out different things and seeing if they work. But less than a handful of them actually strike me with a sense of belonging, a feeling of purpose that I’m on the right path – that I’m where I’m meant to be.

And I found it here. I found it in a person. 

Someone who drives me crazy when he leaves soiled tissue on the table when the trashcan is just right there. Someone who tolerates me and my love-hate relationship with Waze and Google Maps and my uncanny ability to always miss a turn. 

And someone who becomes the big spoon and holds me when I cry because I have to leave for a flight the next morning…

The Beauty of Truth

Growing up, there were a few things I shunned because of a fear at looking weak and inadequate. And in doing so, I was lying to myself. I put up walls, wore masks, and took on different theatre roles. But weirdly enough, during my first ever serious conversation with my now husband (still happily freaking out over this), I was as transparent as ever – and I didn’t even know him that well yet. 

So I guess this serves as a thank you. A note of gratefulness to both You and you. 

Thank You for knowing when to help me bring the walls down, for letting me meet the love of my life, for never leaving me even when I was hurtful, and for showing me numerous times what it means to love and be loved.

And to you… Thank you for letting me know myself better through you. For challenging me and calling me out when you knew I wasn’t being honest to myself, for accepting me flaws and all, and for loving me in the best way that you know how.

roxci vergs married.jpg

On January 1, I got engaged. And on January 11, I had a civil wedding and officially became a military wife. 

I love you, babe. I promise never to leave, even if it gets hard. I promise to cook lots of food for you, without having you worry about me accidentally killing you with peanuts. And I promise that even if we’re old and wrinkly, I will always choose to love you, always and in all ways.