on our age

Today marks one week since B proposed to me (and I eventually remembered to say "yes"). A friend asked me how I felt, and I truthfully responded, "the same." Yes, it's amazingly awesome to be betrothed to my best friend. Yes, we are both feeling optimistic about our (eventual) nuptials. But overall? I pretty much feel the same.

Well, mostly. There is one thing that has been bugging me. When B and I announced our engagement, we were met with warm, encouraging words from our friends and acquaintances. It was very lovely to have so many positive responses, and it definitely made everything feel "right." Unfortunately, not everyone could let me enjoy this moment. A few people had to throw in their world-crushing two cents.

Several older co-workers of mine, when viewing the ring, immediately remarked, "but you're so young!" I politely demurred and responded that the wedding was far in the future and once I even (mistakenly) added that the ring was merely symbolic of our love, not of our marital status. That is not the way I wanted to respond. I wanted to respond much differently. How so? Let's roleplay!

Cast of Characters

ME: Kimberly. 23. Stuck in Baltimore.
CO-WORKER: Typically mid-40s. Usually un-partnered.


CO-WORKER: What a beautiful ring!
ME: Thank you!
CO-WORKER: How old are you?
ME: 23.
CO-WORKER: You're too young to get married!
ME: Why?
CO-WORKER: Because I have a preconceived notion that brides should be of a certain age and you do not fit into my already-made mental mold! Plus, my niece/daughter/God-daughter/pretend daughter was 28/38/eleventy-billion when she was married!
ME: Well, my grandmother was 19 when she was married. My parents had just turned 22 when they semi-eloped. Considering I will be at least 24, probably 25 before the ceremony, I think I'm doing pretty good. Plus, I'm from Tennessee. I'm practically an old maid.
CO-WORKER: But don't you want to do XYZ before you commit to someone?
ME: Marriage will not change my level of commitment to B. B and I have been linked since our first kiss, and our "big decisions" in life have always and will always involve on another. Moreover, I don't think there's one thing I can't do married than I can do "single" ... except maybe a one night stand. I think I'm good without anymore of those.
CO-WORKER: But, but, but ...
ME: FACED.

I'm sorry. The last part of that dialogue really got away from me. The point I'm trying to make here is that there's no "age" to get married, just like there's no right age to have children, or get a degree, or learn to ride a bike, or throw a shoe at a president. We each have our own journey to take, and some of those journeys involve getting married at 23 or 24 or 25 or 38 or 76. I love B very much, and he loves me very much. We are becoming McCuned of our own volition and we are doing it because we believe we are ready. We are the right age because we say we are. There is no schedule for us to fit into. I don't have to get a Masters before I get a Mrs. And getting a Mrs. won't keep me from getting a Masters, if I want one (still working on figuring out what I want to do when I grow up).

B & I are B & I for a reason. I thank others for their wisdom and advice regarding our union and our relationship, but the "you're too young" argument can really take a hike. You can be happy for us or not, that's your choice. Just don't try to rain on my parade--and even if you do, it's not going to stop me from becoming McCuned.

on how we got engaged

I knew it was coming. B and I talked about marriage very early in our relationship. I think that's how I first knew we were going to work out: I had never had such meaningful and optimistic conversations about the future with anyone ever before.

Several months ago when we went to visit my parents, B went out to lunch with my father. This would be when he asked him for "permission" to marry me. Yes, that whole idea of being given permission to marry is archaic, heteronormative, and probably very, very anti-feminist ... but it meant a lot to B to be able to do it. I think it meant a lot to my father, too.

Then there was the problem of the ring. B and I aren't exactly in the upper tier of income brackets. We always knew the engagement would come when the money could be saved. But, thankfully, I'm not high maintenance (nor do I have unrealistic expectations) and B has very generous family members. Also, it was his birthday in July, and before we knew it, the money was there.

I knew that 8/09/10 was going to be a good day. B made reservations at the Melting Pot (yes, it's franchise, but we live in Baltimore ... there isn't a lot of choice up here) and I came home from work early to get my hair did for dinner--I even put on a new dress. B came home from work and jumped in the shower. He put on a purple polo--I think that's when I knew shit was going down.

B pulled a scrapbook out and said, "I've been working on this for awhile." It was the history of our relationship in photographs. Indiana, Miami, Baltimore, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Knoxville, Philadelphia, Easter, NYC, Molly & Luna. Everything. Then, I turned to the last page.


Predictably, my hands flew to my mouth and I looked over at him. B was on both knees on the bed, ring in hand. He asked me to marry him. I kissed him ... and forgot to say yes. He was laughing and putting the ring on my finger before I remembered that I should probably agree to the terms.

Then, we went to dinner and it was effing DELICIOUS. Best engagement ever.

on who we are

I met B in the summer of 2009. We were friends first--joking, laughing, got your back, here have a beer and chill with me friends. And then suddenly, we weren't friends anymore. We were discovering something else to our relationship. We were Together, with a capital T.

B and I consider the beginning of our relationship to be July 8, 2009 (7-8-09). I think that was part of the reason why he proposed on August 9, 2010 (8-9-10). In just over a year, we had done more together than we ever thought we would do in a lifetime. When the first few months were over, I moved to Baltimore, and B moved back to Miami. We were apart for five months, but we racked up an average of seven hours every night together on Skype. Then, in January, B moved to Baltimore. By May we were renting our own apartment and the next month we adopted Molly and Luna, our furballs.

From the beginning, we talked about marriage. The someday wedding, the one-of-these-days ceremony. For purposes we're pretty young, and pretty new to each other, but when you know ... I think you just know. And B and I know, and we couldn't be happier.

B and I are engaged. We are getting married. Let's do this. Let's become McCuned.