When I was younger, I’d ask my dad, “How did you propose to mom?” He’d always say, “We didn’t propose, we just talked about it,” and I would respond, “How could you not propose?” Then the same thing happened to me.
I didn’t get a proposal and I didn’t get an engagement ring. It wasn’t very climactic — we just had a series of conversations. We talked about what if and then decided to. We got married on the second anniversary of our first date. Our families didn’t come, it was just our friends at Brooklyn City Hall. It was lovely.
We had met two years before. I was spending the summer in my hometown in Brazil, bored, trying to pass time when I saw that he and I were 94% compatible on OkCupid. His message was so nice, he was so handsome, and I thought, “There’s no way.” I was sure he was a catfish.
When he asked me out, I told him we’d just have to wait until I came back to New York, and we kept talking every single day.
That first semester we were only seeing each other once a week because that’s all our schedules could allow for. I remember being in class, nervous out of my mind, waiting for him to text me back. My stomach was in knots, I was deranged, and it was so distracting — I still remember telling my roommate, “I can’t do homework because I’m thinking about this guy.” It was my first relationship and I wasn’t used to that feeling.
We ended up having the talk pretty early on and he met my parents that December.
One night that winter we went to see a movie and had a very frustrating experience. We were waiting in line and ended up not having seats for the show we wanted to see, so we had to wait an hour for the next one. We were in Times Square trying to find somewhere to sit, so it was crowded and cold and miserable.
But eventually it all worked out and we had a great time. I remember being on the subway platform on the way back home thinking the evening had started so shitty but we still had so much fun together. His company is so great and he’s the kind of person who’s always trying to make me feel better. Something clicked and I thought, whatever problems we have, we can work on them together. There has never been a deal breaker.
Previously, I’d had very long crushes on guys but the few times it would actually work out, I would find something wrong. I think it was a kind of self-sabotage, or maybe I was just extremely particular.
With David, it’s a true partnership. Even with the small things. When I’m too tired to do the dishes even though he cooked and I should be doing the dishes, he does them. He scratches my back, I scratch his. I can always count on him in a way that I can’t with anyone else.
Even if we’re not really doing anything — if he’s playing a game and I’m reading a book, and we’re not engaging necessarily — we just have a good time together.
Some people talk about monogamy and marriage as if belonging to someone is a restricting thing. I think it’s a very comforting thing to have someone that at the end of the day can be there for you, no matter what.
He was my first relationship and will hopefully be the last.