For a pretty large portion of my 19 years, I was vehemently against the idea of getting married. My observation of marriage was that people get married in an effort to cement their commitment with the hope that if/when things end, they will part ways peacefully.

Unfortunately, that wasn't even my cynicism peeking out—it's a well-known fact that the divorce rates in America are dangerously close to 50 percent. Like many others of my generation, I didn't want that to be my life and sought other priorities.

I was a child of an albeit surprisingly amicable divorce, but a divorce nonetheless. I had both the fortune and misfortune of never seeing my parents fight. I used to see that as a good thing until I realized that I never learned to voice my problems or resolve an argument.

Until a few years ago, I thought that I couldn't function in a healthy adult relationship even if I wanted to.

My parents did their very best and are each now happily re-married, but I did not grow up with the image of a successful marriage, so I convinced myself that that's not what I wanted anyway—and then came a boy, who waltzed in and shattered the illusion that I was so strong and independent that I could never want a partner as a permanent fixture in my life.

But here's the wonderful thing—he taught me that I could be both strong and independent and learn to love and be loved.

I struggled with the concept of being in love, because who the heck even knows what love is at 17 or 19 or even 25? But then I realized that there are people who still don't know what love is at 45, and I am so lucky to know happiness so soon.

Of course, like any young couple, we went through the period of infatuation and excitement, but to some level that never dissipated. I find joy in seemingly mundane activities knowing that I have someone to enjoy these aspects of my life with.

While I am excited for the many years to come, we have also learned to be realistic. They say you know when you've found The One, but that doesn't mean that you and The One can afford a wedding and a house or that you're even ready for that step.

My "One" and I found the balance between commitment and room for growth both personally and as a couple, which for us was a promise ring. We tossed around the idea for a while before eventually going together to pick out a diamond ring that looks far too engagement-y for my parents' comfort. He gave it to me for our first anniversary, and even made a valiant effort to make it a surprise.

To me, the ring means a commitment to a future with someone who is just as committed to me. It represents a promise to continue working at our relationship even when life gets in the way. As a relatively young couple, we have the opportunity to grow and mature together. We've seen each other as awkward teenagers, helped each other through the struggles of becoming independent, and now we get to watch one another grow into successful adults.

My ring represents a promise that someday we will get engaged and I will make a promise yet again to spend my life with him.

To him, the ring represents a milestone in our relationship because we were both at a point that we wanted more out of our relationship. We were able to commit to each other without the urgency of engagement, while still having a symbol of our love and commitment to one another. His family has welcomed me with open arms and shown me firsthand what a successful marriage looks like—after 25 years, his parents still dance around the kitchen and call each other "baby." (His dad even calls me his promise daughter. Isn't that the cutest?)

At times I grappled with the feeling that being "promised" was outdated or misogynistic—after all, the woman is often the only one with a physical symbol of being "taken." But I realized it's not like he was demanding a dowry or asking my father for permission to marry me. By choosing this symbol of commitment as a couple and being happy in a relationship with someone who not only accepted but embraced my strength and independence, I was actually making an empowered decision.

Even after years of friendship and over two years together, I know that our journey has just begun. I feel so lucky to be able to face the hurdles in my relationship that many others would prefer to repress or don't face until they've been married for 20 years.

It would be easy to focus on what each of us could be missing out on by being "tied down" so young, but as he once pointed out to me, being committed at a young age doesn't mean we're missing out on our lives. It means we have someone to share these experiences with. I will be able to share the experience of our college graduations, graduate school, first "grown-up" jobs, first home, and all the other exciting firsts in my life with my very best friend