Full disclosure: I am not a patient, mellow, laid-back type of person. This kind of what's-the-hurry attitude is not something I cultivate in my day-to-day life. In fact, I loathe and abhor the whole concept of what's the hurry. There's plenty of hurry! I could get hit by an Entenmann's truck tomorrow (which, while not a bad way to go in the grand scheme of things, would leave me little time to achieve my life's ambitions). I could keep putting things off until they never got done, winding up old and crusty and unsatisfied. Worst of all, everybody else could get to the important parts before me, and then I would look lame.
It's that last one that always stops me in my tracks when I find myself chafing at friendly cross-examinations re: where this relationship is going, and the rate at which it is going there. Because here's the other sticky thing: I like to be good at stuff. I like to set goals and achieve them quickly. I like my trains to run ahead of schedule, and I like for other people to know that they do. I grew up a perpetual overachiever — honor roll, drama club, full scholarship — not because I cared particularly about coming in first, but because I sure as hell did not want to come in last.
That's something to chat about in therapy, but it's not a good reason to throw on a white dress and make a run for it.
|
I don't want marriage to be a check-box I tick off.
|
I don't want to get married just because everyone is asking me when I'm going to. I don't want to get married because other people think I'm taking too long, or because all the cool kids are doing it. I don't want this relationship — this person I really, really love — to be a check-box I tick off, just another something I can tell myself I accomplished on the nights when self-doubt starts scratching at the screen. I understand that particular temptation in my bones — the desire for tactile, diamond-studded proof that even if your garden won't grow and you have no book deal and your kitchen sink is full of dirty pans, at the very least you'll never again have to troll randomhookup.com for a date on a Saturday night. But that's setting yourself up for disappointment, isn't it? Because once you get home from the honeymoon, the dishes are still dirty and the flowers are still dead. It seems to me like I should get myself some Miracle-Gro and a set of yellow rubber gloves and take care of business before I start expecting a marriage license to make all my fear and insecurity disappear.
There's no doubt in my mind that eventually Tom and I are going to close our eyes, hold hands, and jump. And when we do I want all of it, the church and the dress and the shoving-cake-in-each-other's-
For now, we cohabitate happily, keeping our own last names and Netflix queues, sharing groceries and a bathroom and hopefully the rest of our lives. That's the nice thing about being twenty-four and having found your person, the thing I wish I could effectively articulate to everyone who looks cross-eyed at our reluctance to make it legal: we don't have to rush it. We have all the time in the world.
Although if it ever comes down to theatrics, I guess it's good to know I have the boys' team on my side. n°
FIND MORE
True Stories: I Look Forward To Hearing Your Reply - Twenty-something man seeks woman
True Stories: Divinity School Boys - Never come between them and God
I Did It For Science: Heterosexuality
Comments ( 22 )
Leave a Comment