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Reader, I married him

On New Year’s Eve, at thirty minutes until midnight, my live-in boyfriend went down on one knee on the James Joyce bridge over the River Liffy in Dublin.  We’d just had dinner at a Spanish restaurant with some friends and his brother.  He had a ring.  I figured I’d better say yes and so I did.

Now I find myself engaged and it’s changed absolutely everything.  (It’s even made me want to take up blogging again, because the wedding industrial complex is insane and I’m afraid of boring my friends.)  A permanence and a gravity has been added to our relationship that wasn’t there a week ago.  We are people who take marriage seriously.  Perhaps even a little too seriously, since it’s our first engagement each and I am thirty and he is forty-four.  But we’ve finally gotten here.  And it’s good.  It feels right.  It feels solid.

It would be hard to be happier.  I figured I’d better tell the world.

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