I married my best friend.


Today is the 1st anniversary of me marrying my best friend.

He’s way more articulate than I am.  This is what he wrote on Facebook today.

Can I tell you a fairy tale?

Once upon a time there was a bartender, working in a toxic dead end job.

He made some good friends but he still felt lifeless inside.

The job was bad and his untreated bipolar disorder was worse.

He was tired. He dreamed of turning left on 526 into the wall. Jumping off a bridge. Playing with trains.

Worn past his years, he plodded on. At least sleeping in his walk in closet provided a safe tight nest of blankets and everything didn’t seem so awful.

His mental health was bad and you could see traces on his body: sunken eyes and sickly skin and hair even his stylist called “angry”.

One day he decided to try online dating. Two disastrous dates with horrendously horrible men in, he was ready to give up.

Then he met a guy with a beard and long beautiful hair who was built like a rugby player. A loud laugh that was contagious and a heart bigger than Texas. With his guitar and his strong arms and chest, the bartender felt safe and alive again.

This man was caring and full of love, and cautious like approaching a kicked dog. Vibrant and joyful and full of life. Charming and funny and handsome and supportive, the bartender started feeling alive again. The man’s dog, a Pembroke Corgi, was so loving and kind and coaxed the bartender through his bad days. The man encouraged the bartender to read, laugh, talk, get on good medication, see a therapist. Write, sing, work, dream.

He met the bartender gently halfway, like a frightened dog, to enjoy feeling safe when the bartenders brain tried to eat itself. With a structured life and room to heal with the resources he needed, the bartender stopped having nightmares, got on meds, and stopped feeling plodding and empty. Friendships, a new healthy job, hobbies all felt so alive. He bloomed well…like a tiger lily or a gorgeous flowering vine.

Then one day the bartender got married. To the nice man with a beard and long hair. They said their vows in front of the four stone pillars of the US Customs House on the terrazzo.

He swore to always better himself now that he could look on how happy he was to look at his reflection in the mirror. For years that was a reflection he spit on, unable to feel regulated and normal.

He swore to love the man with long hair and a nice beard for time out of mind. He uttered a quote: “I wanted to see the universe, so I stole a Time Lord and I ran away with him. And you were the only one mad enough to come with me.”

The man’s sister in law and brothers came to stand with us. The bartenders good friends who had been at that point with their lives came to stand with us. A gorgeous woman wore my power color, turquoise, and spoke the words and signed the papers that sealed us. The sun blazed hot. An amazing friend sent us a package out of time and space from England wishing the Mr and Mr their best. A brilliant photographer captured beautiful random moments of our life.

That man was Eli Irvin.

Happy 1st anniversary, my Anam Cara.

Happy Anniversary my love, my Anamcara, my friend.  I love you with all my heart, my mind, my soul and a little bit of my knee.  😉

3 comments

  1. so well written! you two are certainly mint – one with words, one with music – a harmony. Can’t wait to see you.. one day … super soon..

    Like

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