My husband and I have been married for almost two years. Our anniversary is in May. Yes, I am 20, and yes, I am married. Now that I have settled comfortably into my marriage, I have finally been able to process everything that happened.

For now, we’ll start on a Friday. My (now) husband and I had been taking marriage counseling classes for a couple of weeks and had talked a lot about what our future would entail. We knew we wanted to get married at a young age. We both knew we were each other’s forever people, but I also knew he was my ticket to getting out of the toxic environment I was living in. I was still living with my parents at the time, and I was feeling very trapped. I had talked about eloping for months, but my mom had said that she thought we should have a wedding so that people could celebrate with us. I was uncomfortable with the idea of a wedding, but I agreed that it would be fun for my family and his. We had been planning/budgeting for months.  On this particular day, we were looking at wedding venues and had decided on one we wanted to visit. I had told my mom, and she seemed somewhat surprised that we were looking at venues. It was not a total shock to her, though, since we had been together for a while at this point. She asked if she could go with us, and I had agreed. One of my older brothers had overheard the conversation and started asking questions like: “How are y’all going to be able to afford that?” Have y’all taken into consideration all of the expenses of living together?” (All valid questions, simply ironic because a couple of months later, he took out a $10,000 loan for his own wedding.) I should’ve taken it better, but honestly, it made me mad. I had been mentally caring for myself for years, so the fact that anyone thought they knew better than me was too much for me to handle at that time.

 

Reed had been planning to propose about a week later (I don’t like surprises, and we just wanted to be engaged as soon as possible), so the day before he was going to pop the question, he went to lunch with my dad.  He wanted to ask my dad’s permission. At that lunch, my dad had brought 11 pages of questions to ask him. 11. At the end of a 2-hour conversation, my dad then had the nerve to tell Reed that that was only the “first” of the conversations he was going to have with him. It was not a no, but it definitely was not a yes. Reed texted me after the fact, very upset. He did not know what to do because he had tried to do his part by respecting my father. I felt really bad for him. I knew how scary my dad could be. More than that, though, I was pissed. To add context, my father was not around a lot when I was growing up. He wasn’t an absent father, but he wasn’t exactly the “head of the household.” He worked two jobs, so he was rarely home. He primarily parented through my mother. I was upset because I felt like my dad didn’t know me as well as he thought he did.  Reed asking for my hand was merely a formality to us. I have always been the kind of person to do what I am going to do regardless of “permission”, but I was trying to be respectful. I remember going and talking to my mom after Reed had told me. I was raging. I was crying hot tears and having a hard time catching my breath with each round of “How dare he? Who does he think he is, telling Reed he has to have more conversations?” My mom told me to calm down and just wait for my dad to come home. So, I did. When he came through the door, I came hurling at him with the same questions. He told me he was doing it out of love and that he wanted to meet with both of us, and Reed’s parents, so everyone had space to voice their concerns. He also told me that he had felt really caught off guard by the whole thing. Crazy, considering Reed and I had been talking about marriage for a while. I had even been wearing a promise ring. I agreed; however, I also decided that the meeting would be the next day. (The day Reed was supposed to propose) Suddenly, what we had been trying to do out of respect was being taken in the opposite direction than we had planned.  I felt like a helpless kid whose parents were setting them up for a playdate. But I wasn’t a kid, I was 18, and I had been playing a lot of the concerns in my head for months. I had already thought through every aspect of where we would live. How much would it cost? What would happen if I got pregnant young? Would Reed be a good provider? Would Reed be a good spiritual leader? For months, we had researched everything.

 

We (my parents and I) met him and his parents for lunch, and it went downhill quickly. Instead of asking us questions about how we’d manage marriage, what our plans were, etc., my mom, for an hour, proceeded to tell me how much of a steamroller I am, how much of a bad wife I’d be, and how I never had been able to prove I could submit to a future husband. I was devastated. My in-laws may have said two sentences the entire time. Reed probably only said one. It was awkward as hell. Whenever it was over, Reed and I went and sat in his car, and I cried. Reed said that it was probably only the second time he had seen me cry. (The first was also something to do with my parents.) We decided we just needed to go for a drive. We called his brother and sister-in-law and just vented for a little while. They were shocked.

 

When we eventually got to his parents’ house, my mother-in-law told me something I don’t think I will ever forget. She said, ” I just gained more insight into you and your mother’s relationship than I think I ever had before.” She felt bad for me, and she felt bad for her son. An hour later, Reed got a phone call from my dad. “You have my permission. I guess.” We were a little thrown off by the “I guess,” but we were ecstatic. We had permission! We had a low-key night the rest of the night. I was nervous, though, after the very stressful day we had. I was not sure if I wanted to be engaged that day.

 

Before we left, Reed proposed in his parents’ garage. It was awkward, but it was sweet, and it got the job done. I sent my parents a picture of my hand afterward. Somewhat so they were aware, but somewhat out of spite. Reed then drove me home. I was congratulated, and everyone seemed very excited, including my parents.  Something about it felt off, though, wrong. The last time I had seen them, we were at each other’s throats, and now, only hours later, they’re putting on fake smiles and congratulations. It still doesn’t sit right with me to this day.

 

That’s my engagement story. All turned out decent in the end, but I still think about it often. It still stings.

 

Ellie