Sometimes I get scared. Marriage is no small thing. And sometimes, because I’m too damn analytical for my own good, I find myself wondering whether or not we’ll last. It’s a classic conflict for me — the difference between what I feel in the depths of my heart and what my brain and logic tries to tell me. It’s been the same conflict with my love for Russia. This inner conflict is apparently what defines me and the things I care about most. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt Randy, nor do I doubt my love for him or his for me. It’s just the sheer breadth of the commitment that freaks me out, especially since I do not take commitments lightly, especially as they pertain to people.

Sometimes I wish I were able to have the confidence in my decisions that Randy does. I really admire his strength of will. As much as I love the fact that I do think and analyze so heavily, I can’t help but respect Randy for his ability to just accept things how they are. I think that both approaches to life are equally necessary and that both need to be developed as equally as possible. It’s one of the things that Randy has helped me most with — learning to love where I’m at and accept the conditions I’m working under. It helps to focus my analyzing where it will be most effective. That funneling was an ability I totally lacked until two years ago.

Sometimes I wonder about just how different we are. But, whenever that starts to crop up in my thoughts, I can’t help but think about how our differences have created the best memories in our relationship and fostered the most growth in ourselves individually. Each passion that we find that we share is infinitely more exciting because of our vast differences, and therefore more important and more of a bonding point. When Randy and I first started dating, he couldn’t have cared less about Russia. And now he’s excited to learn the language, he wants our kids to be bilingual and to be able to communicate with them in Russian. He even wants to find a Russian tattoo, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his newfound enthusiasm got him to start reading more, even if only to find a Russian phrase of merit and value to get a tattoo of.

Most of the time, though, I am nothing short of completely excited for August 8, when I will have the distinct privilege of calling him my husband and being his wife. Even in the midst of my uncertainties and fear, I know in ways I can’t explain that I love him and want him for the rest of my life. Even when I’m frightened by the fact that I haven’t loved anyone else but him, I am all the same encouraged by it — because how unique is this opportunity? How wonderful is it to have the chance to build a life with my first love? And, I chose him. I waited for him. I pined for him. He wasn’t just a random relationship. And that indescribable attraction I felt towards him that went far beyond physical is another reason why I know we’ll last.

Even when I get scared.

Photo by Jen Martin