I recently celebrated my thirtieth wedding anniversary. The day came and went quietly, with no dramatic music or fanfare—just an ordinary Tuesday marked by a nice bottle of wine, some seafood, and a few cute photos shared on social media. To be honest, reaching this milestone didn’t feel like the monumental achievement it’s often made out to be. Many of my friends and family members are still navigating the ups and downs of their own long-term marriages, while others my age are newly married or finally have found “the one” after multiple attempts. Their fresh optimism can sometimes be a bit overwhelming, reminding me of every little hiccup in my own marriage. But honestly, hitting the 30-year mark didn’t seem as significant as it probably should have.
I certainly don’t have any magic formulas or wise words to share—if I were to teach a class on marriage, it would likely resemble a comedic routine more than a serious guide! But after three decades, I do have some amusing insights into living with someone who tolerates my quirks.
Sure, we’ve traveled a long road together, but it’s not because I chose a flawless partner (stay tuned for the jazz hands story); it’s more about my choice of someone who can handle my eccentricities.
I’m generally pretty easy-going—until I’m not. I have my sensible moments—except when it comes to shoes. I consider myself smart—unless someone asks me a question about history, geography, or science. And while I can be a blast at a party—unless, of course, Tito’s is involved. Not to mention the karaoke, hot wings, beer, and heels I come with!
As for him? Well, he’s definitely a character. He has some quirky habits (like closing all the blinds when he showers, convinced the neighbors are spying on him), a rebellious streak (like refusing to finish his colonoscopy prep in the middle of the night), and an uncanny ability to annoy everyone—especially me. Seriously, it’s infuriating how everyone seems to love him, and I’m left wondering how on earth he managed to snag a partner!
But let’s be real: it’s not all bad. For one, he’s a fantastic dad—even if he once made the infamous comment during a family argument: “This ain’t no gangsta family!” This did lighten the mood, though it took a while for the kids to stop laughing. He’s slowly regaining some credibility with them, having run a few marathons and learned how to use Venmo.
He’s a keeper for sure. He knows me well, always reminding me to be careful when I’m on a stepstool, and he even buys me tiny, cute underwear online because he insists I haven’t aged since 1991.
Most days, we’re like a walking meme about marriage—like “If you find joy in critiquing how someone loads the dishwasher, marriage might be for you!” We’ve figured out that the secret to our success lies in not experiencing all the tough times simultaneously.
Our marriage has seen its share of challenges, but like childbirth, those memories fade over time once you’ve made it through. Deep down, we genuinely enjoy each other’s company, and yes, we make each other laugh—despite those jazz hands of his.
About those jazz hands: picture a ridiculously cheerful guy dancing in public, arms waving and encouraging others to join in—it’s our private signal that I’m now the designated driver. See? We work well together!
So, James, will you accept this rose? It’s time to celebrate! How about we watch our three-hour wedding video and see if we can recognize anyone?
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In summary, celebrating thirty years of marriage is less about grand gestures and more about navigating the everyday quirks and joys of being together. While the journey has had its challenges, the laughter and mutual understanding have made it worthwhile.
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