Most people look back fondly on their high school sweethearts; I look across the table at mine at dinner every night. My husband and I met when I was a junior in high school, and we've been together for the last 17 years.
When I tell people that now, as an adult, the response is pretty positive. But earlier on in our relationship, we endured a lot of judginess. We hadn't played the field enough; we were limiting our options; we were holding each other back. I know the people around us had visions of us having a baby too soon, getting stuck in our hometown, missing out on life experiences, and eventually splitting up. And that's fair; that's the way it goes for a lot of people.
But our relationship wasn't typical. We weren't codependent, and we didn't miss out on our college experiences. We did the long-distance thing the entire time we were in college, and although we remained faithful to each other, we were also able to have our own experiences, our own friends, and our own lives. He went out to bars in the city with friends from work; I went out dancing with my roommates and spent weekends at the beach. But we always knew we would end up together, and once I was done with school, I moved to San Francisco to be with him. Within a year we were engaged, and within three, we were married. Sounds fast, but at that point we had been dating for NINE years.
Now, 18 years into our relationship and eight years into our marriage, I can pretty safely say that marrying the first person I ever seriously dated was the best decision I've ever made. Here's why.