It’s so bizarre to be engaged. Not a single, not yet a wife...Britney sang about this, I think.
Our finances aren’t yet merged, but already we’re making financial decisions together. One late night we played a game of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” except what we revealed to each other weren’t parts, but accounts. Bank accounts, Mint.com profiles, student loan balances, and credit scores (we won’t discuss who had the better credit score…) were each pulled up on our respective laptops. Luckily I didn’t have anything to hide or be embarrassed about, and neither did he, but I still felt more vulnerable than I would have if he were reading a page from my diary.
Last month, I made a…shall we say…very large, somewhat self-indulgent purchase (my wedding present to self), and for the first time I felt like I needed to run my decision by someone else. Over the last few years, I’ve suffered through a couple periods of self-induced famine after I just had to purchase that Craigslist antique or Kate Spade bag, and I’ve never regretted it. But to starve someone other than myself?? I can’t. At the very least I felt I needed to inform him that we’ll be eating ramen for a while. Luckily, Jordan just gets it, and he wholeheartedly endorsed my purchasing decision…this time.
We’re also religious and traditional, which means that we don’t live together and we can count on one hand the number of times Jordan has stayed over at my place. Not to mention the fact that we don’t do anything beyond making out, a totally remarkable feat for two smokin’ hot kids who spend 100% of their free time together. :) In practice, we live our lives together, not apart—I make us dinner (okay, pasta) every night and we floss together—yet Jordan dutifully drives home to his crowded bachelor pad each night while I snuggle up to my fluffy Anthropologie comforter, in all of its lame duck glory. (I’ll miss you, you ruffly, heavenly cloud you!)
|Ringing in 2013!|
But it’s also a beautiful little time in our lives. Of course I can’t speak with certainty, but I suspect that never again in our lives will we have the same excitement for the future and sense of possibility and opportunity. Want to do two simultaneous masters programs while having our first baby? Why not? Want to move to Europe for the next five years? Oui!
So maybe there’s some naivete mixed in with our optimism. However we label it, I hope to never lose it, though I know it may someday become diluted with a grown up dose of reality, no doubt reeking strongly of dirty diapers, mind-boggling private school tuition, and numbing sleep-deprivation. But I hope the dilution will be slight—and who knows, maybe we’ll return to our current delirium when we become empty nesters. The kids are gone! Chinese takeout every night and clothing optional breakfasts start now!
Bizarre and beautiful. For now (and for the next eight days), I’m savoring every bit of it.