No, I am not missing out on any experiences.
I met him when I was 19 and married him when I was 21.
In the 19 years before I met him, I had a year of college under my belt, became a miniature alcholic, and I had two major heart breaks. I watched a sunset and sunrise within the same night. I danced in a fountain at two in the morning, after spending the day playing in the rain. I went to a church with no doctrine and I went to a church of the faith I always followed. I attempted to go to a French themed party, I say attempted because the cops arrived before I did. I went to a music festival. I wrote a poem. I put my heart on my sleeve, then returned it back safely to my chest. I built walls. I got lost.
I spent 19 years not knowing who I was, or what I wanted. However, when I met him, I still had no idea who I was or what I wanted, but I knew I wanted to be it and to find it with him.
He showed me that my “friends” only liked me when I was following their rules.
He stayed with me when I did not even know how to stay with myself.
I married my best friend at 21. We have game nights and movie marathons. We bake cupcakes and make gingerbread houses. We build puzzles and fight over that damned ‘Draw Four’ Uno card. He makes the nightmares go away and he understands that some days the darkness seeps in.
We got married young so we could enjoy the rest of life together. So no, I am not missing out on life. I’m just bringing a permanent plus one.