People often say that the first year of marriage is the hardest. I’m not sure who these people are or why they say it, but after one year of marriage, I have a feeling it won’t be our hardest. Maybe this idea comes from a time before it was common for couples to live together before marriage, along with other outdated traditions—like women leaving their jobs or having kids immediately after the wedding.
My grandmother, for example, met my grandfather while she was still in college and got married “late” (back in the 1950s) because she wanted to work for a while before starting a family. She even asked my grandfather to postpone their wedding so she could explore the working world first.
Luckily, one year into my own marriage, I’m still doing my thing—just now I get to call Paul “my husband.” So, here’s a look at what one year of marriage has been like for us:
One year of nothing really significant changing since our wedding a year ago
One year of trying to figure out where to fit our wedding presents in our 700 square foot apartment
One year of wondering what I should do with my wedding dress
One year of my wedding dress remaining in a closet at my parent’s house
One year of people saying “so, how’s married life?”
And one year of us responding “pretty much the same as before”
One year of people referring to me as Lucy Berman or cutting me out completely and addressing me as Mrs. Paul Berman
One year of still being Lucy Heller
One year of being on Paul’s health insurance (thank god!)
One year of Paul introducing me to people as “my wife” with a Borat impression
One year of me shaking my head at Paul’s Borat impression
One year of accepting drinks I don’t always want just to avoid people speculating I’m pregnant
One year of procrastinating setting up a joint bank account—even though we really need to—so I can stop Venmoing Paul for rent
One year of listening to Paul say it’s “our money” as he helps me out post graduate school
One year of me still not feeling like it’s our money since I haven’t had an income in a year
One year of trying to get our niece and nephews to call Paul, “Uncle Paul”
One year of Paul’s extended family asking when will have kids
One year of threatening divorce whenever Paul does something I don’t like
One year of Paul knowing my threats aren’t real
One year of many :)
Honestly, I never regretted keeping my name! I still look around for David’s mom when I hear Mrs. Berman.