Reader, I married him.
That’s right. I got married. To the one my soul loves, my very Favorite, my real-life Dirk, Prince Charming, and knight in shining armor. I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine, as his wedding ring says.
You may have noticed a change up top of this here blog. See that? That’s my new name. My married name. A bit corny. ;) But that’s right, I took my maiden name as my middle and added my man’s name to mine (I even have the license to prove it already!). Most importantly, I took him as mine.
- Which means I get to see him everyday now, in our own cozy little nest nestled beneath a treeline–have you heard the story of my first and new forest yet?
- Which also means I’m figuring out that you can indeed run the dishwasher and the washing machine at the same time–just not the shower.
- Which finally means it’s entirely possible to go on a week-long honeymoon with one person and not get tired of them at all.
I got married. We had a First Look, where I handed him the bottle with which he proposed to me, stuffed with a new love letter this time. From me to him. <– Fun Fact: that letter is still in that bottle because it refuses to roll enough so we can slip it out! No worries, I simply made another copy and framed that one to match the one from him to me…
We became man and wife. I didn’t cry. He did. ;)
Later that same day, we had Chick fil a (because, what else does a girl want on her wedding day?) and headed off to a quiet, restful beach we adopted as our own for a week. This week, we returned to settle into our first newlywed home. And I changed my name here, because I want the whole world to know.
Reader, I married him. – Jane Eyre