Twelfth

So this is the 12th year of being married. And the second full year with Choya. Her anniversary gift to us, was allowing us to properly sleep for eight hours a night for two weeks in a row. (Thankfully the weather cooperated.)

I'm like, WOW. Time is time. Time flows exactly 24 hours a day at its usual stately pace. However, the past 2.5 years with the dog felt like it really flew by extra quick. The days blur into the dog's pee and poop + food schedules. Her needs are paramount. We accept the responsibilities that come along with nurturing a happy, confident and more or less obedient dog. 

Twelfth.

These 1.8 pandemic years have really made us so relieved that we made the conscious decision not to have children. Well, I knew that right from the start. But the pandemic truly hammered it in. It made us glad that in our case, we don't have children or even nieces/nephews we're obligated to. To be honest, I've never once felt any purported ticking of a biological maternal clock. It doesn't exist for me; it's not going to suddenly tick now. Being a mother to biological or adopted children is not a life role I want. Having a family framed to the society's construct doesn't sit well with me. The husband fully agrees and has my back in this aspect.  

Do we have 12 more years together? Or 24 years? 36 years perhaps? I don't know. I'll simply cherish what I have. Sure, we plan ahead. But those plans are flexible. The husband doesn't pander to my whims and I don't bend to his will. As I got older, and especially after marriage, I tend to treat discussions with the husband the way I do discussions at work or with friends. It's a mutual agreement to disagree or to eventual agreement. Point, proof and pertinence. It's an absolute joy to debate. I love it when it's clinical because it's so useful, without the annoying emotional baggage that comes along with it. It's a happy sort of negotiation and compromise. 

I don't know if we'll stay married till death do us part. We aspire to that, but who knows. However, when we're still in love with each other and keep communication channels open (that is damn hard work), then we're in a good place. Our friends are our friends, but I don't need to be friends with his friends, and he doesn't have to be friends with mine. We'll just have to respect each other's choice of friends, and the reason we're still friends. In these pandemic times, the one thing we are assured of — both of us have sane friends. Hurhurhurhurhur. We don't play games and we don't allow jealousy (not of a third party, but of each other's achievements, successes and such insidious matters) to rule. We have to be careful not to become resentful of each other. This is not a power play. We're not in a goddamn Netflix drama. 

The best thing we can do for this relationship is to provide sufficiently for our individual selves too. Our identities aren't subsumed within each other, as long-married couples tend to become. We remain equal partners who are respectful of each other, and there's always space to grow and nurture our separate interests. I'm happy with the life we have built, glad for the choices that we have made, grateful for the privileges we haver received. There mustn't be regrets, and there must be boundaries along with the love.  

12 we are. 12 it is.