By John Jericiau
My spouse and I are coming up on ten awesome years together. We marked the calendar from our first date together: June 11th, 2004. Most of our hetero friends start the clock as of the date of their wedding, but since we weren’t afforded that opportunity until June 21st, 2008 (during a small window when California said we could before putting a stop to all but the first 18,000 gay couples who got hitched), we include the four years prior to our marriage in our calculations. For us I wouldn’t really call it a wedding, since as of yet we have not blurted the “’til death do us part” speech to each other in front of 200 of our closest friends and family at a fabulous venue as we stand ankle-deep in sand on a beautiful tropical beach. Instead I dragged him to the Los Angeles County Clerk’s office in beautiful downtown Norwalk, CA the night before his birthday with our two oldest sons, signed some legal documents, kissed on the lips in front of someone representing religion, and then continued on our way to Newport Beach to enjoy the night in a ritzy hotel.
The almost 10 years have been a whirlwind adventure to say the least. Starting a business together, more job responsibilities for him, the title of stay-at-home dad for me, and another son later, we’re about to start on the second decade of our relationship. It’s mind-boggling. It’s hard to believe. And it’s better than ever.
We have our moments, don’t get me wrong. A lot of them. At times I wonder if two men can actually cohabitate. But that’s the minority of the time. Most of the time it works, and I think it’s because we complement each other.
I say complement, not compliment, although for sure the one with an ‘i’ has helped us through some tough patches as well (do you know how sexy you look when you’re screaming at me?) What I’m really referring to is complement with an ‘e’, which in the dictionary means:
Something that completes, makes up a whole, or brings to perfection.
For us, it’s how the cool, detached man is attracted to the warm, outgoing one. It’s how the disciplined one admires the free spirit. The smart one is in awe of the even smarter one.
We even work well in the parenting department. Not so much as good cop/bad cop, but rather one of us is softer, more inclined to cuddle, and more freely says to the boys “I love you” just because, and uses “don’t worry, everything will work out” for almost any other reason. The other imparts wisdom and shares the tools needed to navigate this great big scary world. In sickness, one of us barely flinches until an offspring has over a 103-degree temperature or has bright red blood spurting out of a major artery. The other worries about the effect of our iPhones on their development, and seriously considers homeschooling a viable option for our boys (I can’t imagine it, although it sounds like it’s working for many families.)
Bottom line is it’s working. We are growing as people, as parents, and as a couple. And I cannot wait to report back in ten more years, because deep in my heart I know that everything will work out. I love you, babe.
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