At a friend's bachelorette party the other night, the bride-to-be asked the married women in attendance to share the best and worst things about marriage.

A few women mentioned being able to look like trash in front of their best friend as the best thing, while picking up dirty socks ranked among the worst.

When it came time for me to offer some wifely wisdom, I could only think of the one aspect of marriage that represents both the good and the bad.

I can't leave.

I am in this for the long haul, which is both terrifying and more rewarding than I ever imagined.

Before I married Jack three years ago, I was petrified about lifelong commitment. Could I handle living with the same snoring man who hasn't worn an ironed shirt since high school? Wouldn't I get bored of the same everything day after day?

I was worried about missing the excitement of the first kiss. I knew that never again would I experience that little rush before strange lips meet for the first time. I would never get that queasy feeling about a new guy, never get to stress about what to wear on a date or wonder if my crush would ever call.

I stressed about giving up my freedom for a huge unknown. Sure, I knew him, but I didn't know the married Jack -- or the married me, for that matter.

During the first year, that promise to stick it out for better or worse seemed impossible to live up to. We fought about many issues, from the important -- money, family -- to the insignificant -- laundry and social obligations. No matter what fueled the ongoing battle, it felt like we weren't going to make it work.

I dreaded being a failure at marriage. I didn't want to be divorced by 30 or find myself reading articles about being a starter wife, let alone be one.

During those months of disagreements I took a second to step back. I noticed that Jack and I were developing a bond that would set us up for the long haul. Past all the kinks and headaches, we were getting into a marriage groove.

As we make plans to celebrate our third year of marriage, I realize we beat that two-year marriage trend that makes headlines, and my 30th birthday passed without divorce proceedings.

But what about that itch for the excitement that my single friends get to experience?

I don't miss it, actually. I don't feel trapped by my wedding ring or stifled by the institution that I worried would ruin my life.

I can get all wrapped up in the chemistry between two lovers in a movie, but I no longer fantasize about being the leading lady. Hugh Grant could take me out to dinner one night, but just as friends.

When my friends talk about new men and escapades, I am excited for them, hanging on every detail. I just get my thrills in different ways now.

Instead of dancing all night, I grab my husband's hand and spin around the kitchen. Instead of meeting new men, I travel the world with the one I know, the one who makes me laugh and will be there when I wake up.

The grass is no longer greener.

I am quite happy with my own yard. It's not always tidy or easy to deal with, but putting in the work and love to make it grow is invaluable.

Laura Lewis Brown is an adventurous newlywed who has loved, lost and doesn't mind sharing. Her column appears every other Thursday.