The wedding is all tulle, bow ties, toasts, and honeymoons. But what comes next? There’s really no blueprint, so we asked five local couples to tell us what marriage has meant for them. Turns out it’s about deep love, loss, buying houses, heartache, kids, illness, grocery shopping, job changes, family vacations—the mundane and the extraordinary.
Caitlin Rose Myers & Jonathan Myers | Married July 6, 2013
Jon and I met at Oberlin College in Ohio when I was a sophomore and he was a junior. We saw each other from across the room and knew we needed to meet. We both have a deep appreciation for spooky vibes, goth music, and a love of adventure and traveling. Our first trip together was to Japan. Seven years into our relationship, we took a road trip up the Pacific Coast Highway and Jon proposed without huge fanfare. We were married in 2013 at the Hotel Congress in Tucson, Arizona, with 85 of our closest friends and family. We honeymooned in Iceland and had another private ceremony in the volcano fields. I was in grad school during the planning process and wedding and was in constant pain but didn’t know why. Finally in 2014 I was diagnosed with Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, a genetic connective tissue disorder that is caused by defects in the body’s collagen. There is no cure, but there is symptom management. As a result of this diagnosis, I utilize a wheelchair to be more comfortable and to get around more easily. It took about a year to accept my disability, but it has changed both of our lives for the better. My wheelchair brought back a quality of life that I didn’t have, and we wanted to celebrate that. We chose to have a 10-year vow renewal on July 8, 2023, and make my wheelchair a staple centerpiece of the day. We also decided to turn the dance portion of the reception into a pool party, as it’s too painful for me to dance normally, but the pool is easy on my joints. Because of integrating my disability into our relationship, our relationship has become stronger. All of the extra communication that we have engaged in has brought us even closer together. We have to be a team all the time. I think we both matured a lot. We are still very much the same people we were—we’ve just grown up. Back then, our ideal night out was a raucous industrial concert. But these days we really love sitting on the couch with our dog, Puppernickel, and cat, PawPaw, and just watching something together. Jon will go get steaks from Trueth Meats—he’s a great cook. He makes us dinner and we all sit together.
Kristina & Ryan Clayton | Married June 17, 2016
Does it feel any different? That was probably the question I was asked most after our wedding. At the time, the answer was no. We were already living together, hanging out with our friends on the weekends, and enjoying city life; our routine hadn’t changed. However, looking back over the last seven years, I would now have to change my answer. While the routine hasn’t changed for the most part (work, friends, dog parents, city life), life does feel different. It feels richer, deeper, and more secure. There is a conscious commitment to bettering ourselves and our marriage through not just major life events, but also through the normal day-to-day tasks. In 2019, I had the opportunity of a lifetime to represent Puerto Rico as a member of their national lacrosse team, and I knew that if I saw this opportunity through, it would be a major part of my life and routine for the next three years. Ryan never wavered in his support of my dream. We’ve also held each other through family losses, including my father and his grandfather. We’ve added yearly ski trips to the calendar and completed many a project as first-time homeowners. But the biggest life change has been the arrival of our son, Theo, in October 2023. As the first trimester morning sickness (more like all-day sickness) passed, we started furiously prepping for baby. We read the books, took the classes, and got the nursery ready. We were so excited, but we could not imagine the new depth of love that was about to enter our lives. Finally, the day arrived, and our beautiful baby boy turned our world upside down. I watched my best friend become a dad, and I could not imagine a better life partner to tackle this next phase of life. While we are currently in the midst of the newborn stage—sleep-deprivation, a mountain of diapers, and learning to navigate parenthood—we cannot stop smiling and imagining all the future adventures as a family of three.
Alex Gineitis & Sam Giunta | Married September 15, 2018
It wasn’t until we returned home to Baltimore as newlyweds after our honeymoon that the true beginning of a new chapter in our lives unfolded. This marked not only a moment of joy but also the acknowledgment of genuine federal recognition, stemming from Obergefell v. Hodges, emphasizing that “no union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family.” The return home also signaled our transition into the dynamics of married life, with its mix of exciting new experiences, as well as moments that were downright pedestrian or dull. Having lived together and purchased our home with a 30-year mortgage a couple of years before our engagement, we felt we already had a solid foundation in understanding each other. At the time, marriage appeared to be a one-day event, while buying our home together felt like a more substantial commitment than the wedding itself. Looking back, we realize that the commitment we made when purchasing our home was, in many ways, really just a precursor to our vows. It was exciting, stressful, and we learned a lot. Honestly, it laid the foundation for the journey we are on today—a journey marked by love and the shared dream of a future filled with laughter, adventure, growing as both individuals and as a couple, and enduring companionship. And, of course, there were the inevitable misunderstandings, arguments, the never-ending housework, including loading the dishwasher—one of us doing it with the precision of a Scandinavian architect and the other approaching it with the finesse of a somewhat frenzied raccoon (side eye), along with everything else in between. In 2019, as a married couple, we walked hand in hand in Baltimore’s Pride Parade. Amid the lively celebration, an indescribable high enveloped us. In that moment, surrounded by the celebration of love and identity, we unexpectedly realized that visibly living our dream allowed others to witness genuine love—a profound experience we never anticipated. Six years into marriage, our life is full of shared moments and cherished rituals. On weekends, we stroll together through the 32nd Street Farmers Market, picking up fresh ingredients for an evening of collaborative cooking. When we need a reset, we escape to a small beach in southern Maryland, accompanied by our 16-year-old rescue dog, Kramer, and our adopted pandemic rescue cat, Cosette, to enjoy some tranquility. Building a life together also involves more than just shared spaces and vows; it takes work, effort, and constant adjustments. We had to truly learn what it means to navigate the intricate dance of compromise, communication, and continual growth and the unwavering support for each other as we navigated through indescribable lows. Whether it’s supporting each other in personal goals, taking time for self-care, adapting to new challenges, or celebrating achievements, we have learned that marriage is both the adventure and the journey.
Bonnie & Alan Block | Married June 18, 1964
I really liked Alan in fifth grade; I thought he was so cute. I used to sit on the curb and watch him play ball in the neighborhood. We took dance lessons together down in this girl’s basement because our parents thought we should learn to dance. We had other partners here and there but when we were 15, we went steady. That’s what they called it then. Our wedding was a neighborhood affair because we lived like two and a half blocks from one another in Hilltop. We were married at Blue Crest on Reisterstown Road in northwest Baltimore. We were a team and then a family team. I used to say to Alan, the children come first. Early on we talked about our goals. It’s always been a joint thing. Marriage is not a smooth road, it’s up and down. What are the main ingredients of love and commitment? Well, you gotta be lucky enough to find somebody that you care about enough that you put them in front of yourself. We have an understanding—he cooks, I clean. He overlooks things that I do that annoy him, I overlook things that he does that are annoying. We’re just grateful to be pretty healthy. And we don’t have to be glued at the hip, but we enjoy each other’s company. And I mean, this is going to sound stuck up, but I know we have something really special with our children. And many people would love to have that. But there were illnesses as well. I had breast cancer and this schmutz in July. I don’t like the word stroke, it makes me feel sad. When that happened, all we had to do was call the children and they all came immediately. I was never alone. I’ve said to them over and over—the only way that I want you to honor daddy and me when we’re gone is that you love and care about each other every day. And so that’s the greatest gift.
Molly Saint-James & Ian McDonald | Married July 23, 2005
If I’m honest, our marriage wasn’t in a great place when Ian was diagnosed with terminal colon cancer five and half years ago. We struggled to find our footing as we muddled through middle-age: kids, jobs—his, high stakes and high stress—a house whose tidiness (or lack thereof) we constantly argued about, aging parents, the usual. We couldn’t seem to figure out how to make it all work. Because we used to argue about the state of our house so much, we liked to joke that once the kids grew up, we’d move to a modern condo in Harbor East—all white walls and hard angles, where our clutter couldn’t follow us. Ian had a fantasy of picking up our 100-year-old house, holding it upside down and shaking all the toys out before returning it to its foundation. In some ways, cancer was a balm to our marriage, allowing us to hit the pause button while we poured our energy into pursuing care. I worked at the hospital where he was treated and I tracked down various doctors, asked the questions he was uncomfortable asking, and kept track of his many medications. He, in turn, was a perfect patient, never missing an appointment and diligently logging his symptoms. A natural comedian, he kept everybody laughing on his chemo days and once bought all the nurses on the floor pizza. When he wasn’t up for joking, he was still polite and kind, remembering to thank everybody who took care of him that day. In those infusion and procedure rooms, we spent more hours alone together than we had in years, united in a shared purpose to get through as gracefully as we could. And somewhere along the way, we (mostly) repaired our marriage. Since he died four and half years ago, I’ve had a lot of time to consider our marriage. The truth is that I don’t know for sure whether we would have worked things out. Would we have moved to our featureless condo, and, without the messiness of young children and the stress of jobs, made our marriage work? Hard to say. But what I do know—schmaltzy as it sounds—is that I have no regrets. We got married, eyes wide open, because we loved each other deeply and didn’t want to be without each other. Every July since our kids were born, Ian and I returned to Cape Cod, where he grew up and where we were married in 2005. Since he died, we’ve continued this tradition, honoring him by visiting his beloved beaches, eating his favorite peach muffins and blueberry ice cream, and buying cheesy souvenirs at the store where he worked when he was 15. One year we had family pictures taken on the public beach where we were married (attendance: 23). We definitely looked ridiculous all dressed up early on a Wednesday morning, but we had a great time celebrating Ian and all the good things that happened because I married that guy.