They had probably one of the strangest relationships, ever, and there were some pretty strange relationships out there. They had a three bedroom house for the two of them. They had their bedroom, with the double bed and some of their clothes, and then they had his bedroom and her bedroom, each with twin beds and the rest of their stuff. No one was quite sure how much either of them slept in which room. They refused to discuss it. So they were a happily married couple that still had their own separate bedrooms.
And they were happily married. You could see it easily when they were out together. The little smiles and the little touches, and all the little things. He had insisted he wasn’t ever getting married. He told anyone who asked, before he met her, that there was no point in getting married. It was just extra paperwork for when the relationship inevitably fell apart. She had also told many a friend she was never getting married. Not because she didn’t want to get married, she loved the romance of it all, and she wanted to fall in love. But she knew that she had too much love for her personal space, and her freedom to do what she wanted. She was extraordinarily lucky to find a man who not only understood the need for personal space, but insisted on having personal space of his own. And as for why he decided to marry her, no one had a clue, least of all her.
But he did. And she couldn’t have been happier.