We’re Married
I think it was around 8th grade when i first felt it, that quiet ache in the back of my mind that something was missing. It’s impossible to describe someone you’ve never met. You might have an idea, but not a clear picture, like trying to recall small details from a dream.
And then I met Nicole. I saw her in action and it was like watching my imagination take shape, except unlike my blurry daydreams, here she was in the flesh, full of details my mind had never quite managed to render. It was as if my subconscious had been quietly sketching her all along, offering me only a glimpse, a faint outline. As if she’d been coexisting in some parallel layer of my mind, just waiting for the right moment to materialize.
And when she did, I recognized her instantly.
She is rarely the center of attention, but if people could see past themselves, they would see in her a glow that most people only notice when shit has hit the fan. Besides her glow, it’s her charming disorder in which she moves through life that i Love the most. Such as…
Like the mess she leaves after cooking,.
Or how she manages to get food on her forehead, her eyelid, her chin while cooking
Or how she saws through carrots with a serrated steak knife instead of using a chef’s knife.
Or how she always forgets to replace the empty toilet paper roll.
Or how there’s always one bite of food left on her plate.
Or how i can find her by simply following the trail of crumbs
Or how she showers faster than I do but never quite dries off completely, so that her shirt ends up soaking wet afterward.
Or how, after “drying off”, she shoves the towel into the drying rack all crumpled up, so the twisted parts never actually dry.
Or how she never screws on the toothpaste cap, just balances it on top, so when I grab it, it falls, bouncing into the sink.
Or how everything she touches ends up with a thin, oily residue.
All of these are things that thoroughly annoy me, yet deep down, when i get out of the way, I fucking love. And it’s in these small, maddening quirks that the magic lives. That she becomes my guru, challenging me to let go of efficiency and systemizing everything. Inviting me to spend more time on the romantic island of “isness” and to catch a glimpse of the fleeting moment. She offers me a front-row seat to the beauty of chaos and unpredictability. Pulling me out of my world and into hers, one where a half-dried towel and a smudge of sauce on her cheek aren’t problems to be solved, but poetry in motion. Her imperfections are my perfection and I get to see it everyday.
The day arrived quietly, without fanfare, despite being our wedding day. We got ready in our modest sublet, nothing special, just the two of us going through the motions while the quiet buzz of getting married hung in the background. We didn’t have a car, so we walked to the nearest bus stop, ducking under a business awning as a light drizzle began to fall. It was funny, standing there watching people pass by on their way to work or run errands, just another Tuesday for them, while for us, on our way to get married. I dont think any one even noticed.
The bus ride to Bern’s civil registry office was short, followed by a five-minute walk to the building itself. We met Nicole’s sister and her husband outside, our lone guests, our entire wedding party. Getting married at the civil registry in Bern is a quiet, no-frills affair. The building is clean and organized, designed for efficiency, not sentiment. Pale walls, mass-produced furniture, the occasional shit IKEA print on the wall, and the unmistakable scent of bureaucracy. The ceremony was led by a civil official who looked exactly like you'd expect, everyday work attire, loose-fitting khakis, a budget button-down, and the air of a man who works a 9-5 office job.
The ceremony was in German and since I couldn't understand what he was saying, was by law required to have hired a translator, who sat between us, quietly echoing the official’s words into English so I could follow along. The first half of the script felt more like a legal warning than a romantic prelude, detailing all the penalties for entering a fraudulent marriage, including prison time, steep fines, and a ban from reentering Switzerland. A wonderful mood-setter. After firing off several more warning shots in that choppy german cadence, the script turned to the actual marriage part. Neither of of us cried, rather we shared a simple, sincere moment followed by a formal kiss and a shared glance that said, We did it.
Unbeknownst to us, Nicole’s sister had choreographed a whole series of events for our special day, beginning as soon as we stepped outside. A 1964 chevy impala. A cherry red and white metal tank of a vehicle designed for the wide open roads of America, not the tight cobblestone corners of medieval Bern. It was quite a scene driving through the city in that big boy, and a huge smile spread across the face of everybody who looked our way. Such a rarity to see a car like this, let alone in europe, a perfect chariot for two lovers to run away in. Behind the wheel, Nicole’s uncle would gave the horn a few celebratory honks, drawing even more attention and joy from the pedestrians. We had no idea where we were going, just taking in the ride. Eventually, we pulled into a park, where all of Nicole’s family had been hiding, ready to shower us with surprise and love.
After the photos, we were ushered back in the car towards another unknown destination. After winding through a few narrow residential streets, having the make several Y-turns, we arrived at a small event space where Nicole’s extended family and closest friends were waiting to welcome us into marriage with a celebratory feast.
