Well, I Made It To A Fourth Wedding Anniversary Without Being Separated
I got married for the first time in March 2013. That was a big, 160-person wedding down in Miami that admittedly was pretty fun, longer-term outcome ignored in this case. In March 2017, I was getting separated from said woman, largely as a result of my own bullshit. So, on what would have been our fourth wedding anniversary, we were living together but essentially actively avoiding each other. It was a rough time. The anger and sadness I felt during that period and extending our from that period could probably power Brazil for a couple of months.
I got married the second time, which is a sentence that I guess you never hope to have to write but 43% of people do end up writing (or saying), in October 2020. This was a COVID-era wedding with a “drive-by” component, and the actual wedding had 20 or so people, 15 of whom I had met maybe four-six times beforehand. It was in Texas, and via COVID, my own parents didn’t even come. It was also one of the last times I received a positive text message from my boy Bobby L., who I mentioned here:
