In all seriousness, though, being married worked best for my husband and I in our very particular situation. We didn’t want to get married for the sake of getting married. We didn’t have a big, fancy wedding. We both were very happy being single. We both do silly things, and we both do responsible things. We both have grand plans for the future, and we’re working on them: individually, and together. We’re a team now, and we root for each other, and it’s awesome. We’re determined to be optimistic, to continue being delighted with one another. So, yes, it really cuts deep when people try and identify every single fault in the situation rather than just sitting back and saying, “Hey, you guys seem really happy, and I wish you the best of luck.”
And I won’t pretend that being married is all fun. God, no. I’m not that deluded (or a liar). I don’t love all of it. I don’t love all of his friends. I don’t love his PS4. I don’t always love his job, and I don’t always love how our lives revolve around his job. I don’t love how far from home I am. I don’t love the residual bitterness of past mistakes. And, yes, between you and me, I do miss my last name.
But taking the bad with the good is the essence of life. And there is so much good. I love the perpetual pun war we’ve got going. I love having a very distinct, indecipherable language with another human. I love being with someone who happens to have very finely calibrated Amy antennae, and can swiftly deal with all of my social bungles before they’ve even happened. I love these aspects of our relationship, of course, but at the end of the day I am only in this situation because I love him. In many ways, he is my BFF, and I love the fact that he’s always there. Ultimately, he is the best human being I’ve ever met. Together we’re more functional, we have more fun, and we bring out the best in each other.
He is exactly the person who I plan to spend the rest of my life with, and I am looking forward to it.
If I could leave anyone with one resonating moral of this story, it’s not that getting married at 22 is the right thing or the wrong thing to do. It’s just—to thwart the immortal words of T-Swizzle—the thing that we were feeling at 22. And the haters will probably continue to hate (hate, hate), but I hope the best for their relationships, so it makes perfect sense to me that they’d wish the best for me and mine. I’m 22 and married, and others might be 16 and pregnant, or 40 and a virgin…and I couldn’t give a hoot, as long as they’re happy. Which is exactly what being 22 and married has made me.
