A Kind of Love

I go to a lot of weddings. I photograph them, so, I kind of have to.

I photograph weddings, and I photograph engaged couples before I photograph their wedding much later. And when you photograph engaged couples and newlyweds, obviously, the look you're going for is love.

Whatever that means.

I mean, when you're there, in the midst of the job, you know what love means. Love is pretty. Love is adorable. Sometimes, love makes you cry, to see two people who enjoy each others' company so much they're willing to sacrifice life and limb in order to bind themselves to this other person legally and spiritually and, let's face it, domestically until they're dead.

Seriously, that's it. Game's over. I found you, and now I'm done. 

Love is a sinking feeling. Love is having a partner, an invested partner, someone who has made a commitment to obligate themselves to you, to take time out of their busy schedule to comfort you and encourage you. And why?

I don't know. Because you like the same things. You're attracted to each other. You make each other laugh.

Love is being willing to cross town, states, countries ... just to spend a few hours with that person who, for whatever reason, probably one you can just barely articulate, you want to spend time with.

See? Isn't it sweet? It's cute. I know.

I see this engagement video, and I love it. It's charming. I watched it all the way through and pondered it, compared what I saw there to what I see in my own marriage.

I thought about the couple being portrayed here - and I know they're real people, I know there are probably dozens of layers to their relationship and I'm sure they aren't all unicorns and glitter-hearts. But that's not the point of the video.  The point is portray this idea of love. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy.

Can you imagine that idea of love in five years? Ten years? Fifty?

I see her in white apron with tiny red hearts on it, pulling a roast out of the oven right when he walks in the door, simultaneously loosening his tie while ...

... no, actually. I can't.

I can't picture that idea of love in ten or fifty years ... just like I can't picture a cute girl like that getting fat after giving birth to three kids, or a sweet, forehead-kissing dude like that feeling like he just needs at least three days alone somewhere playing Max Payne without interruption for once can't he just have that?

I see videos like that ... and I go to all these weddings and I take all these pictures ...

... and I come home and I think ... my marriage looks nothing like that.

I mean, it's not dull and uneventful or sad. We don't fight. We don't really even have any problems. He's my best friend, and I know I'm his.

But we aren't sitting on the couch nuzzling each other or playing Scrabble by the fire (that actually sounds kind of fun) or sipping wine at a picnic and giggling. And half the time, we're thinking of stuff we could do with other people rather than stuff we could do with each other. And I don't always cook for him and he doesn't bring me flowers every week and really ... we aren't much to photograph.

Two years and one child later ... it's really nothing like I anticipated it would be.

At the risk of sounding sappy ... it's probably better.

Which is why it was the couple slow dancing that had been married over 60 years tonight that got me all misty-eyed tonight, not the newlyweds.

As usual, I feel like my writing has just taken a nosedive off a cliff into a sea of no real point.

Let me know if you figured out the point I started out trying to make.