Two years ago today, at this hour, my wife and I were married. Immediately after being pronounced so, and after kissing for the first time as husband and wife, the song “Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show played, and we processed past our family and our friends and began our new life together.
Last month, I celebrated the tenth anniversary of the live variety show I do here in Los Angeles, and I sang that song and dedicated it to my wife. In order to memorize the lyrics, I listened to the song on repeat as I ran on a treadmill at the gym. I did this until I knew the song backwards and forwards— for a few days, usually for about 30 minutes at a time. Always, every time, at some point in this process, I would get choked up as the emotion of my wedding day— and, indeed, of the reality that I was going to spend my life with this amazing person— would envelop me all over again. It is tougher than you might think to hide tears and run in public.
Obviously, it’d be rather self-absorbed of me to think that anyone reading this could possibly care about my marriage as much as I and my wife do. That only makes sense. Why should you care about me getting married? Chances are very good you didn’t even know I was married. And now that you do, that knowledge has the same impact on your life as it did before you knew; that is to say, zero.
There are a number of different reasons people can have for getting married. In my opinion, the greatest of these is love. My wife and I married each other because we love each other and wanted to make a lasting commitment to each other, and signify to the world that we had done so. It’s a profound feeling.
I am very, very fortunate that I have been able to marry the person I love, and I would like it if other people who are in love could share that good fortune. It doesn’t seem like a lot to ask, and it’s no skin off your nose, you know?