My wife and I are getting ready to celebrate our 13th year as husband and wife. Among other things, after almost 13 years, we have had plenty to talk about. Thankfully, in all the years we’ve been together, we have maintained a healthy, if not sarcastic, line of communication with each other. We had conversations about everything you would expect being married for a baker’s dozen of years is liable to prompt.
We’ve talked about our kids, work, bills, how we were going to pay the mortgage, which kinds of potato chips are the best, what we should watch on TV, and who’s turn it was to clean the bathroom.
In that time, we have been able to create a type of banter not unlike most married couples have. I have realized the passion, emotion, and occasional irrationality my wife is prone to. In turn, she has figured out how to read me like a cheap romance novel, I can be maddeningly stubborn, and at my core, I’m basically an idiot.
But throughout all of our conversations, ranging from deadly serious to ridiculously trivial, there has always been one constant; our love for one another.
Some conversation I have enjoyed, some I have dreaded, and others still make me laugh but there has been one conversation we’ve had that began it all. The conversation we had 15 years ago when I asked her to marry me…
Read how I proposed to my wife at The Bookish Babe.