Yesterday marked our second weekiversary. Yes, Tom and I tied the knot just two weeks ago. It’s hard to believe that we’ve only been together just over a year and a half, considering that now he is the most important person in the world to me. We’re 28 and 27 (that’s right, I’m robbing the cradle, folks), and it feels like just the right time for marriage. Our friends who got married at a younger age tended to struggle with providing for themselves, while I can imagine that those who waited until their thirties can’t help but feel that they’ve wasted some of their prime years apart from their partner.
By marrying, Tom and I are partaking in an institution that is rapidly on the decline. A cursory Bing search led me to an article that tells me that the percentage of unmarried women ages 25 and older has more than doubled from a mere 8% in 1960 to 17% in 2012. The increase is even more drastic in men.
Among the marrying crowd, Tom and I are part of a subgroup of couples who did not cohabit before marriage. (The Huffington Post said in 2014 that 48% of women live with their partner before marrying that person). To make things even more interesting, we both actually lived with our parents before marriage. But these are blog posts for another day.
Tom and I moved into a small rental home not too far from our families and workplaces. It’s gradually starting to feel more homey as we unpack, organize, and decorate. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’ve got to say that every evening is like having a sleepover party with your best friend. Your sexy, funny, intelligent best friend. I highly recommend it. 😉
Our first two weeks together have been like making landfall after a long and tempestuous voyage at sea. Neither of us has been married before. We lived with our parents, for God’s sake. (Talk about a lack of privacy). Finally, we are home.