We really didn't know each other all that well, having had only two actual dates while he was home on leave and then nine months of longdistance courtship, during which we never set eyes on each other. I was in college on the east coast and he was stationed on the west coast. For some reason, it seemed the right thing to just cut to the chase and get married. Both families were appalled. My family came around; his didn't.
He came home on leave just in time to get married, have a bit of a honeymoon and take off again to his post in Turkey. I followed four months later.
So there we were, 21 and 23, hardly acquainted and living in a strange and exotic land, in an apartment in a small Turkish town. Yes, there were plenty of times I questioned why I had married him.
We had to learn how to argue (there was one hell of a lot of sulking on both our parts for the first year) and how to get along. There was no running home to Mama for some comfort; there wasn't even any telephoning home except on special occasions. But life was interesting and we were young and adventurous and in love (most of the time) and 18 months after we were married, we were not only husband and wife, but Mama and Daddy.
And, yes, I'd most likely do it again. We had a mostly good 38 years until I lost him almost 13 years ago.