Three Months Ago I Said “I Do”. I Want To Do It Again, Can I?
I can’t possibly remember the first time I have ever looked up to a screen and watched a movie, but I carry in my heart some movies that made my childhood and adolescence. Don’t be alarmed if I say that The Diary of Bridget Jones is one of these masterpieces.
My prima (cousin) and I watched it several times in Italian, Portuguese, and later on I would watch it numerous times in English. A decade or so is in between my cousin and I’s ages, so it was pretty clear and obvious that she would get lots of more laughs out of the movie than 9 years-old me. The first time I saw a sex scene was when Bridget gives a go to Daniel. The first time I had a glimpse of foreplay, seduction, and male gaze was when I would watch the adventures of Ms. Jones. And of course, Mr. Right (sorry, Darcy) could be the one and only Colin Firth. No discussions. I would watch this movie so many times with my mom and cousin, but when I was by myself there was only one thing that stuck with me and that made me so much intrigued about adulthood: female independence and how fun is to be single in your 30s.
This must be the recipe for success and a happy life, I would think. But life isn’t a movie. It can be detrimental to religiously follow a plot.
Bridget Jones has many fucked up moments. First of all, she is not fat and the whole movie makes a big deal out of her fine body. However, this didn’t particularly impacted me, like it did to a whole generation of Millennials and Gen Zs. Secondly, Bridget lives in an expensive city like London in a cozy flat by herself. Now, that is what impacted me. Seeing Bridget being solo in her 30s, surrounded by friends and a relatively successful career in media and publishing, was something I constantly thought it would happen to me. My Mr. Darcy could only come in my life only after my dreadful-post-20s-single phase, after my living-solo-in-a-flat phase, and after my-stable-career-in-media phase. Add a little puppy too, ‘cause why not. I was so sure of that, but again: life is not a movie.
When you don’t see yourself represented in media nor you see an array of options of what success can mean for people like you (BIPOC or Latine), literary, visual or digital escapism becomes the only way you can aspire to live your life. After Bridget Jones, Gossip Girl, Friends, Insecure, and Sex And The City were on my radar. All of these media productions glorify singlehood, where none of the protagonist or pivotal characters meet the love of their life and marry them in their 20s. They all have, aspire, or juggle with successful careers, while climbing the corporate ladder or becoming entrepreneurs. For the longest, I thought I had to follow this recipe, especially since I have been (and still am) a late bloomer for so many things in my life. I thought I could only think of romantic love only and exclusively after I had become to next Elaine Welteroth in media, with a stable network of friends with whom I take side quests and a series of terrible lovers whose job is to define my character development. Note: these last two notes indeed happened, but I always thought they would be much more magnificent, Oscar-worthy and Grammy-nominated journeys. Does visiting a man in Atlanta for “love” count? Lol.
But I am certain I got the Nobel-prize of love stories. No drama, lots of warmth and laughter, much respect and kindness. I thought my 20s were supposed to be extremely fucked up for my romances, but it wasn’t necessary like that. A couple of struggling love stories pushed me to think I could not dream of romance anymore and I started falling in love with myself, which also meant trying to seek validation in places I thought could give me the most: a gig, a job, a career. In this process, an angel came in my life and has never given up on me. This person made me believe in love, laughter, and life for its own existence’s sake. In December of 2020 I said “I love you”, which was like saying “I do believe in what you are making me feel”, which was warmth and safety. Four years later I said “I do” for life. I chose to believe, forever, in love. It is ok to embrace love, even when you have to revaluate your own firm standards, most of them imposed by society.
Brian is an angel. I am convinced every single day that he is the reason why I started loving life so much more. When I stopped seeking validation in places where I clearly was not wanted nor welcomed, I began attracting what could only be for me at that time and place. I also started being less selfish and take care of my communities in ways I could have never done, had I not had the chance to learn many soft skills throughout our relationship (active listening, self-care, and overall patience). I am my own person, but I think that I have reached a deeper level of self-determination and freedom through the company of one of the kindest and most patient human beings.
Our wedding was a beautiful celebration. Is it weird though, that it is only now that I feel much more connected to him? I don’t know how common it is for newly weds to feel a certain kind of connection shortly after they said in front of everyone they know “I do”. We had already committed to our love way before a minister was in front of us. All I did was crying of happiness during our ceremony. Just like in a movie, the one I had never watched when growing up. Yes, you can get married and still be independent and fierce. Yes, you can still be successful and happy when you have a less appealing career to showcase the world. During the ceremony, I kept thinking of how I never thought I could deserve all of that love, it was almost too much for my heart to take it. How blessed, how happy, how pure. ‘Til today, I wake up and thank the universe for all the things I had to go through and all the emotions I had to experience to enjoy these charged blissful moments of positive energy. I wish women, Black women in particular, could feel what I felt: the ease, the glitter, the sparkles in our hearts.
Three months ago I said “I Do” and I want to do it all again. I can’t wait to celebrate our love in Italy and in Brazil, where the rest of my family and friends reside. However, there are still some days when imposter syndrome and my OCD flare me up and make me doubt if all of this can still be part of my reality. For this reason, I decided to give it a try to therapy. I have never done it and I’m open to allow myself to explore a wider channel of resources that can help me become more free in my own life journey. I can now learn techniques that can help me stay grounded and to stop doubting of my own worth. Despite the difficulties that I may have in navigating the world as a Black immigrant woman, I am a free spirit that doesn’t have to be lonely in life, but can say proudly and loudly “I do” to anyone and anything that makes her heart skip a beat. To you, Brian, I want to say it: I do.
