I got lucky.
How I wrote my final chapter at the age of 20
Confession: single people scare the shit out of me. I’m not lying. When I drive drunk single souls home every weekend, I hear it all. A woman dressed to kill … Continue reading South City Confessions: I want no part of the single life
The first thing that comes to mind is the sweat. I was sweating profusely through my forehead, and it wouldn’t stop. Normally, someone would attach fear and nerves to this, but that wasn’t really the case. I was just ready to get this thing going. Rachel and I had been engaged since a Dave Matthews Band concert nearly two and a half years before this night. Getting married requires a healthy amount of cash if you want to do it right, so time had to be mortgaged over a certain period of time.
Finally, the wait was over. February 18th, 2005 was our day for two reasons: there was no Cardinals game that day and I was marrying the love of my life.
I know, it’s not so cool these days to say that your spouse is the love of your life. It’s as if being nice to one another is hard enough these days that an honest love isn’t allowed. When you are married to someone, saying “I love you” can become an arbitrary practice that most men write off as too sappy or vulnerable to admit and women wonder if they really mean it. The thing for me is clear-I really do love my wife. I need her every day, or else I’m screwed. I’m lost with her in this mad world. If you find a good wife, you are that much closer to a good life. I’m a hopeless romantic, a lover of old school ideals, and one of them is the belief that marriage can still produce a happily ever after. Now, back to the sweats. (more…)
11 years ago, at a place called Orlando Gardens off Watson Road in St. Louis, I married my wife Rachel. I was 23 years old, mostly clueless but sure about one thing. I loved this woman and everything else would sort itself out. That’s life. It doesn’t give you all the answers early on but when a beautiful tough and resilient five foot three inch lady stands in front of you, you get down on a fucking knee.
Around 15 years ago(add a few months to that), I proposed to my wife at a Dave Matthews Band concert. In a haze of reefer and great music, I decided to pop the question. I didn’t have a ring. Only a promise. As Dave played “Where Are You Going”, I took his lead and asked her a question. When you pop the question at a young age, nerves and uneasiness crawl up inside your body like insurgents. Most people fail because they do it to fix something in their life. Some do it because it’s cool. Others watch too many movies. I did it because I wanted to spend some time with this woman. The girl that burned a hole in my back outside Hatch Hall at Mizzou. The girl who left a note on my dorm room door asking me when I was going to ask her out(I was working the manual scoreboard that weekend!). (more…)