August 21, 2001
You'll never guess what I did this weekend.
I'll tell you the story.
You see, six years ago I was sitting in a chat room while bored in the computer lab of my freshman dormitory... No, wait, we don't have time for a story this long. Let's just do the highlights.
Six years ago I met a man. He was the first man who ever made me feel beautiful. He was the first man who ever valued me equally for my brain and my body. He was the first man who ever made me feel truly special and truly unique.
I did not fall in love with him the first time we met. I fell in love with him the second time we met. We were playing a strategy board game at his apartment in Indiana over a half-eaten Canadian bacon and broccoli pizza and two liters of Coke. It was one of those games with "entrenchments" and "encampments" and lots of little soldier figures and chips that you slide around the board. I don't know how it started, but somehow one of us started doing a Beavis and Butthead impersonation, and for at least twenty minutes the game went pretty much nowhere while we muttered, "Huh huh.. huh huh... your soldier is approaching my 'entrenchment'... huh huh" and dissolved into fits of giggles. I laughed so hard I cried and there were tears rolling down my face. The next day, we built a kite and took it to a local park and flew it, and he made me stir fry and I tasted fresh ginger for the first time in my life. He played me one of his favorite songs by Robyn Hitchcock. When I had to get on the bus to leave him, I cried and cried.
We visited each other many times after that. I remember a postcard he sent me, written in crayon because that's all he could find to write with. I remember unexpected presents showing up on my doorstep. Once, out of the blue, the complete audiocassette collection of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy radio show arrived.
I was scared and young and not ready to commit to someone, and so for awhile we found other people to date, other people to spend time with. I tried to have as much fun with other men as I had with Keith, and failed miserably. I tried to find all the good things that were a part of him, in other men, and had no luck.
He makes these orange juice brownies that everyone in the entire world thinks taste like ass, but I love those brownies. He taught me how to make soap. He used to send me handmade soap all the time, and I thought it was the most amazing thing in the world. He has an encyclopedic knowledge about the Chernobyl disaster, and he patiently re-explains the details to me every time we have a conversation about it and I've forgotten yet again how the cooling system works. He was a math major and he is always the quickest one at the table to be able to figure out the tip in his head.
He treats me like a goddess. A princess. The most special woman on the face of the earth. When I come home from work, and he is here, more often than not he says, "Hey, pretty girl!" We hug and kiss every single morning before we leave and every single night when we've both come home. He never gets frustrated or angry with me, even when I'm cranky and awful to him. He never raises his voice to me. He is patient and sweet and kind.
Once, I came to visit him in Seattle, and we drove to Portland to visit friends. On the way back from Portland, halfway to Seattle, the car broke down. The temperature gauge was all the way into the red zone when the car died, and we coasted to an offramp and into a gas station. We were in the middle of nowhere, the car had just broken down, and when we called AAA, Keith was informed that he didn't have the membership he needed to get the free towing.
I was expecting him to become angry, to yell, to get upset with me, the AAA guy on the phone, and possibly even the gas station attendants. It's just what I expected from men, back then. But he wasn't angry, and he wasn't upset. He was so nice to the AAA guy on the phone that the guy gave us an upgrade over the phone, which is against the rules. I kept asking Keith, in wonderment, if he weren't angry, and he kept looking at me quizzically and saying, "What for?"
He remembers everyone's birthday. He remembered the anniversary of the day we met when I couldn't even remember which month it was. He makes bizarre jokes that are hard to understand, but once you do understand, you laugh until it hurts. Often in a group of people talking, he will sit quietly and simply listen...but when he speaks, it is more often than not an insight that pulls an entire conversational thread together, or diverts the debate in a new and interesting way that nobody could have anticipated. His intelligence is quiet and deep and broad.
When I wanted to get married and he didn't, it hurt him to see me in pain, but he was unwilling to perform a dishonest act by agreeing to marriage when he wasn't ready. When, later, he was ready to get married, but I wasn't sure, he was infinitely patient. He was much more patient with me than I had been with him.
When we found out together that I was unexpectedly and impossibly pregnant, he did not rage, or sulk, or become resentful. He hugged me, and told me that everything would be all right. He promised me that everything would be all right, and it has been. Keith has not yet broken a promise to me.
Two months ago, we came home from a friend's wedding, and he proposed to me. He said, "Jan Bednarczuk, will you marry me?" and I cried and said yes, of course I would marry him. I was nervous and scared, but he never had second thoughts or cold feet. On the day of the wedding, I was a nervous wreck, and he was a calm port in a storm.
We bought rings. I bought a wedding dress. We decided to have the wedding in Las Vegas, because we didn't have time to plan a huge wedding before the baby, and we wanted to be married sooner rather than later, and we wanted this first ceremony to be just for us. Keith dusted off his tuxedo. We got plane tickets and made a hotel reservation, and I was in shock.
I have been in shock for a long, long time.
Two of our friends happened to be vacationing in Vegas that same weekend, and we asked them to attend the wedding. They said they'd love to. Keith had emailed three other friends who happened to be in LA, but we'd heard nothing back from them, and so we assumed they would not come. It would be just four of us.
We took a cab to the license bureau at 10:30 on Friday evening and stood in a short line of other couples, affirmed that we were who we said we were, handed over fifty dollars, and were given a marriage license. The next day, someone came to do my hair and makeup, and while I was sitting in my hotel room on a phone book so that my face caught the sun, and she was putting eyeshadow on me, I had what I guess must have been a panic attack. I had cold sweats and needed to stand up, then sit down, then stand up again. I drank a sip of Coke that Keith had brought me, but it didn't help. Eventually, it passed, and awhile later I looked into the mirror and saw that I had been transformed from regular old Jan into The Bride. Keith emerged from the restroom in his tuxedo and bow tie and vest, and he was most certainly The Groom. The most handsome groom I've ever seen, in fact.
There was a limo to take us to the chapel. When we arrived, we found our three friends from LA waiting for us in the parking lot, and there was much joy and merriment. I couldn't believe they'd driven five and a half hours for us, but they looked just as excited to be there as we were to have them.
Once inside the chapel, Keith and I were given a brief talk by the minister, who asked if we wanted to walk down the aisle together or have Keith wait at the altar for me (we wanted him to wait at the altar), and if we wanted a prayer said over us (we did). Then the guests were seated, and Keith was taken to the altar, and music played. Becky, my friend who happened to be in Vegas vacationing, walked down the aisle first, and then I walked down the aisle, and the minister said some words that I barely remember, and then Keith and I promised to love and honor each other and commit to each other for the rest of our lives, and then there were rings, and we were pronounced man and wife. Keith kissed me (apparently for a very long time, according to the witnesses) and then spun me around through the air, and we were married.
I am somebody's wife. I have in-laws. I have a wedding ring. I have a marriage certificate and photos to prove that it all happened.
But you know, I don't care so much about the ring (although it is beautiful) or the ceremony (although it was fabulous) or any of the trappings (although they were great). What I care about is that the most wonderful, unbelievable, fascinating, and special man I have ever met is going to be with me for the rest of my life. The man who gives me so much joy and happiness and laughter, will be at my side always. We will care for each other, and protect each other, and love each other, and be with each other, and I am so happy, because I can't imagine living the rest of my life any other way.