Why I Got Married – not a crafty post

Seems like a funny blog topic, right? Well, not so much, if you know much about me and my life. Sometimes I get so caught up in the day to day stuff that I forget what really matters (don’t we all?) and sometimes I just need to sit still and remember stuff that helps ease the stress of every thing else that’s going so wrong.

The first time I met my future husband I was working as a gas station cashier in this junky mini-mart in Yuba City. He’s a treetrimmer for Utility and back then he always wore this black and yellow jacket with the tree company’s logo on the back. The crews were parking in the gas station’s large lot, so they were in the store every morning and every afternoon; in the morning for coffee and gas, in the afternoon for candy bars and beer. I was all of 19, weighed just over a hundred pounds and thought life revolved around when the needle next hit my now-ex’s arm, so I wasn’t looking for a new man in any way. And if I had been, Frankie wouldn’t have been the one I’d imagined spending my future with. He was the nicest, for sure, but he was also quiet and seemed uninterested. I’d only seen him once or twice but my boss was always telling me about this nice treetrimmer I should meet…little did I know I’d already met him.

A few weeks after I started working at the store we got kicked out of the apartment we were living in. We spent a night or two wandering around town and sleeping where ever we could, until an old friend of mine just happened to run into us. She was pregnant and happy and looking for room mates at her uncle’s house twenty miles or so up the mountain. We said we’d go check it out, since her baby’s daddy was my old man’s best friend. That was the time I really actually met Frankie. Turns out he was her uncle. He was in the back field with his donkey (seriously, I’m not kidding, it just looks funny) and as we were walking down to meet him I recognized that jacket. She said no one else had one like that, so I knew it was the nice treetrimmer before we even made it down there. He still seemed polite and sweet but distant. He let us crash at the house a night or two before he mentioned that we could rent the extra room if we wanted to live there. So my now-ex and I moved in with Frankie, his niece (who’s my best friend) and her old man, and we all waited to see what would happen.

The drinking problem I’d developed over the last three years didn’t seem to go away just because we finally lived in a nice house and had good friends. In fact it got lots worse, since now, with Frankie being over 21 and drinking a lot himself, it was easier to get alcohol. I’d stay home and be drunk by dinner, my ex would stay gone and come home long enough to pick fights and be the jerk he really was. T couldn’t take it, when he’d be mean to me she’d flip out on him, and there wasn’t much he could do about it, since she had a tiny baby and her boyfriend was his best friend. Eventually though he’d had enough. Over the two years we’d been together he’d done a lot of messed up things to me, including sleeping with every girl for hundreds of miles around, but he’d never actually punched me until one night when he came home and I was drunk. He kicked the glass out of my hand and proceeded to try to smash every bone in my face while he held me up on the wall by my neck. T finally put a stop to it and kicked him out. A few hours later Frankie came home to a wrecked house and a house mate who couldn’t talk, and he was furious, wanted to kill him, but all he could do was what I’d let him, which was nothing. I found out later though that he did pay for the jerk’s bus ticket out of Cali and told him he better get out before my dad found him.

That night sobered me up a little. I was scared to death about what was going to happen to me without a man in my life. I quit my job, since I now had no way to get back and forth, and was packing up to move to my dad’s when Frankie came home late on over time. It was after two in the morning when he walked in, and somehow we wound up talking until six, when it was time for him to go back to work. I quit packing as fast and waited to see what would happen after he told me not to go anywhere, that he didn’t need my rent money and he didn’t want me to go. Another week went by before he finally asked me out on a real date.

We went to dinner and a movie (Galaxy Quest with Tim Allen, lol) and on the way home he pulled the truck into an empty parking lot and kissed me. He said he didn’t want out first kiss to be in front of room mates, which was fine by me. He took me out again the next weekend, and one day not too long after that I came home to see him and our other room mate moving my dresser into the master bedroom. When I asked him what he was doing he said he was just making more room in the house, and then told me his bed was more comfortable than mine was anyway…lol. I’d fallen in love with him before he’d ever kissed me so I didn’t complain too much about losing my room.

We were completely in love and completely exclusive, but for the longest time neither of us talked about what our future plans were. He knew I wasn’t going anywhere and I knew he wasn’t going to kick me out or mistreat me so I was content. My daddy loved him, which wasn’t a bit surprising since they both think the world could be held together with enough duct tape and that Wranglers and boots are some kind of mandatory uniform. Gradually, though, I realized that if we weren’t ever going to get married, I needed to make other plans for life, come up with something else and move on. We talked about it and he didn’t really say much either way, just let me go on about it and then said we’d figure it all out eventually.

One night we were driving home from a date and he looked at me and said, “We’re getting married December 12.”

I just about drove off into the ditch.

Our first date was February 17th, and after a lot of calendar checking, we got married February 5th, almost a year after our first date. Our baby was born the following January. Life had a pattern and a meaning.

And then it got lost in eight years of daily life, lol.

There’s a lot more to the story than that, and it only begins when we said I do, so there’s even more than that. Maybe someday soon I’ll write the rest…and fix the boringness of this one…but right now it’s after two and I’m finally exhausted. :0)


About messymama
I'm a SAHM with a busy schedule and a love of too many things to count! I sew, I write, I draw, and I love to create. I'm always on the lookout for a new project idea. One other very important thing about me - my house is in a continual state of upheaval and mess. Slowly but surely I'm working through the piles and boxes, but I am still in the process, and some days it seems like it would be much easier to pack up and move!

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