My Vander

Seven years ago this weekend (the actual date was April 4, 1998), I married my best friend, a man who fits me like a glove. Our courtship was relatively short -- only 9 months before he proposed and another 7 before the nuptials. Prior to that, we had only known each other roughly 6 months. The thing that set him apart, though, is that everyone around me was just as happy about my choice for a mate as I was. Anyone who knows anything about my past realizes this was a new experience indeed. Maybe because we were a bit older when we married -- I was nearly 28 and he had just turned 27 -- we never went through the difficulties encountered by most newlyweds in the first year. In fact, we have yet to really even have a fight. Oh, there have been some serious discussions, no doubt. But this man loves and respects me so much -- and expects the same from me -- that he never allows childish game-playing, hurtful sarcasm, or ridicule of any kind. He makes me believe that I am the ideal wife, and in doing so, he inspires me to actually try to fit that bill. I guess it's true that some people bring out the best in you where others bring out the worst -- I definitely married the former, for which I am daily grateful. When we were preparing for marriage, I remember one really important concept on which we agreed -- love. No, I'm not talking about the butterflies in your tummy and tingles in your toes. I'm not talking about the passionate need to be with that person every moment. These, of course, were present in abundance, but they also fluctuate and evolve over time. I'm talking about real, soul-deep, lifetime love. And our agreement was this: It's a choice, not a feeling. On the day we married, we promised to keep making that choice every single day of our lives. Seven years in, and I don't regret a thing.