Dating : Before the World Gets Any Crazier, I Married the Love of My Life at the Courthouse

Something monumental happened the other day: I married the love of my life in the middle of a global pandemic.

We still have our ceremony/party/celebration, whatever you want to call it, set for October 2020. But as for the paperwork side of things, we wanted to get that squared away immediately…before the world gets any crazier.

Before the aliens attack, before the meteor strikes, we signed a document that legally unites us as husband and wife. No dress, no rings, no vows—just two witnesses, a pen, and a judge to make it official.

We’re calling this the “business” side of love. The boring stuff. We hope to see our guests in October for the mushy-gushy, emotional celebration…the part that actually matters.

Unless, you know, the apes rise up and kill us all. A definite possibility based on 2020’s outcomes so far.

Now that we’re married in the eyes of the law, government buildings can freely burn to the ground and it won’t affect us. Another possibility based on the George Floyd protests.

We already have our certified wedding certificate as proof of marriage.

Listen, I tried—I really tried—to patiently wait for October to take this next step. But with the way everything’s going, I only see dark times ahead.

Maybe I’m jaded?

I felt optimistic about October as the COVID-19 cases began to decrease…but then the protests happened…and large gatherings in the thousands took place.

In the next two weeks, I expect to see massive spikes in COVID cases once again. And then I expect many states to enter lockdown…again. We worked so hard to get to Phase 1 of re-opening for nothing.

Should governors re-enforce lockdowns, government buildings will remain closed for who-the-fuck-knows-how-long.

No government buildings open = no legal marriage.

Quite the dilemma.

In these unprecedented times of chaos and the unknown, I took one matter into my own hands.

• I can’t change the spread of COVID
• I can’t change how people choose to get together
• I can’t change the decisions of governors/businesses

The one thing I can change, however, is the date of my wedding and the manner in which it happens.

Here’s my thought process: handle the lawful side of things now, celebrate with friends and family when shit calms down.

I can have a wedding with cake, flowers, and dancing at any old time. I can only sign a marriage license when the recording office feels safe enough to open and officiate.

I refuse to leave my future (and my love life) in the hands of office workers.

You see, there’s a lot riding on our marital status.

Taxes, for one. Secondly, my now-husband has a VA Home Loan in his pocket that we can use to buy our first house.

But the loan only covers us as a couple if we’re married.

If we wanted to use it as an unmarried couple, it would exclusively apply to my fiancé—not to me, so I would still have to place a downpayment on the house.

Thirdly, health insurance. It’s become an anomaly in my life ever since I embarked on the self-employed writer path. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I picked up a pack of birth control pills from the pharmacy for free.

My husband has a traditional office job with medical and dental plans that I can use for myself now. Time for a teeth cleaning!

With so many married-life benefits and the ever-changing panic of 2020, we saw no reason to wait until October to get the paperwork sorted.

So, in early June, we drove across county lines (nothing has reopened in our neck of the woods) to the courthouse—with masks in-hand, of course.

I made an appointment with the judge over the phone, and just like that, I became a wife before lunchtime.

A 10-minute “I do” session later and the stress of “making it official” felt like a distant nightmare.

Truthfully, we’ve felt married for years. It’s about goddamn time we have some proof on paper.

After the so-called ceremony, we took our two witnesses out to lunch—in a county that entered Stage 2 of reopening—which they graciously paid for and also treated us to a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, which we drank at home later that night with Pizza Hut.

And let me tell you, pizza and champagne make a perfect paring.

With the perfect buzz on, we consummated our marriage like bunnies. Do you know when the dick so deep it feels like he’s fucking your stomach?

Yeah, that kind of sex. The kind that leaves you dick drunk.

You can’t talk straight. You can’t walk straight.

I mean, it was the perfect day. I never imagined having a courthouse “ceremony” in black skinny jeans with a distressed tear around my knee and Dr. Martens combat boots…BUT WHAT A COOL STORY!

Plus, I get to celebrate our union for a second time this October…in a stunning, floor-length dress that costs nearly as much as rent.

If the aliens are reading this, please, please, please, wait just a few more months to blow us to bits.