There was a series of unusual events on the East Coast in late August 2011. First, an earthquake rocked Washington, DC. A few days later, Hurricane Irene barreled down on New York and New Jersey.
But in between was an absolutely beautiful late-summer day. The sun was shining, and it wasn’t too hot or humid. Or at least that’s what it was like in Woodcliff Lake, New Jersey, on the day my husband, Joe, and I got married.
And so began my marriage. Nestled between two natural disasters.
Sounds like the plot of a rom-com, doesn’t it?
But it really happened. And somehow, my life has been a rom-com ever since.
While that particular episode may have been a little heavier on the “comedy,” 15 years later, I still find myself seeking out the “romance.”
Now, before you click away because you think this is about to become 800 words about our sappy, constantly hand-holding, never-go-to-bed-angry, Hallmark movie-style marriage… nothing could be further from the truth.
Joe is romantic and sweet in the ways that matter, but he’s not serenading me every night. “Sappy” isn’t in the top 100 words I’d use to describe him. And no one holds me accountable—or refuses to take my shit—quite like Joe does.
Because… 15 years of marriage. Plus another seven that we were together before we got married.
That’s a long time to be with someone. People will tell you that romance eventually falls apart. Or disappears completely. That it’s something you have to work to hold onto.
But I think romance just changes. Our definition of it changes as we grow.
And it’s not something you have to wait for. It’s something you can manufacture yourself.
And if you’ve been reading 40 and Giving Zero F’s for a while, you’ve probably caught on to the fact that I’m pretty good at manufacturing romance.
There are plenty of ways I make my life romantic that have nothing to do with my husband. It’s about seeking out experiences that feel special, even when they’re inconvenient.
It’s staying out late on a weeknight because something is worth staying up for.
It’s sitting on the covered porch and reading during a rainstorm.
It’s treating yourself to a fancy cocktail when your plans change instead of going home early.
It’s trying something absurd, like goat yoga, just because you can.
It’s buying yourself flowers because you realize you really fucking love flowers. (For the record, Joe also buys me flowers. I’m not trying to start a fight here.)
Choosing romance means not always being practical. There is almost nothing practical about romance.
I’m 41, and I’m tired. I have a demanding job, kids to raise, and a thousand things to do. It would almost always be easier not to do the thing. To just stay home.
But I don’t want to make every decision based on what’s easiest. When I think about the things that make my life feel full and interesting, very few of them happened because I chose the most practical option. Sometimes that extra effort is exactly what turns an ordinary day into one I’ll actually remember.
And I want more of those days.
Joe and I have known each other for 22 years. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of meals we’ve had together. Most of them haven’t been special. Sometimes it’s just dinner on a Tuesday.
But every once in a while, I crave something that feels special. Even on a random Tuesday.
I also don’t expect it to just happen. Sometimes I have to nudge it along and choose the romantic thing instead of the easy one.
Which brings me back to this week and my 15-year wedding anniversary with Joe, and to our nearly perfect wedding day, nestled between two natural disasters.
We’ve kept romance in our life together, not because we’ve stayed in some perpetual honeymoon phase, but because we keep choosing it. Even when that means figuring out which breweries are open on a Tuesday night because that’s when daycare has parents’ night out, or one of us tagging along on the other’s work trip just to squeeze in a little extra time alone together.
But speaking of honeymoons… back in 2011, we didn’t leave for Hawaii until a few days after our wedding. By the time we knew we’d have the time off, our preferred flight—direct from Newark to Honolulu—was sold out.
That turned out to be incredibly lucky, because Hurricane Irene canceled that flight for days. Instead, we rode out the storm back in Virginia and flew to Hawaii from DC a few days later.
The only hiccup? Our car got towed during the hurricane because we’d accidentally parked in the wrong spot.
Because… our life is a rom-com.
Fifteen years later, I’ve realized life is pretty good at supplying the comedy all on its own. The romance is the part I have to choose.
Luckily, I’m pretty good at manufacturing it.
Closing in on 30 years next month. Stay the course - it gets even better if you can believe it. And yes, life is very good at supplying the comedy.
Love this! Happy Anniversary!