Years ago, I was talking to an old friend of mine. He was one of the first people amongst us to get divorced. I felt sad for him. Until he told me something.
“Are you doing okay?” I ask.
“I’m okay,” he says. “I knew when I was walking down that aisle I was making a mistake.”
“Really?” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “It became a runaway train that I couldn’t get off of. She had suffered some loss in her life. I felt like I couldn’t do it to her at that moment. I didn’t want to hurt her.”
Herein lies the absurdity of a formal commitment.
The moment a ring goes on a finger all bets are off.
We believe we aren’t allowed to doubt ourselves and this promise.
Even if we do have doubts. Even if we do regret what seems like an impossible regret. Even if we decide we feel pressured to make a commitment.
Marriage shouldn’t require us to sell our souls.
Before or after the vow.
We shouldn’t remain with someone because of two words.
Engagement or marriage.
I have another friend (several actually) who heard foreboding words from their dads before they walked down the aisle. Yet like my other friend, it was too late.
They were in their white gowns and people were waiting.
“If you don’t want to go through this,” said their fathers. “You don’t have to.”
Obviously, there was writing on the wall.
Something a parent could see but their child couldn’t.
We assume an engagement means bliss. We assume it means both people are feeling the same thing. We assume a formal commitment means all doubts are alleviated.
They weren’t for me.
I didn’t want to lose my then-boyfriend.
But I didn’t want to marry him either. I wasn’t the average girl. I wasn’t in a hurry. My parents were divorced. I was in no rush to make that big of a commitment.
But he gave me an ultimatum.
Either I marry him or he was moving on.
I’ve written about ultimatums. I’m not a fan of them. I don’t think it’s fair to either person. If you have to deliver a threat, you should move on from that person.
If you are on the receiving end of a threat, you should also move on from that person. Neither individual is wrong. It’s okay for one person to want a bigger commitment.
Just as it’s okay the other person may not be ready for it.
It’s not good to force the formality of love.
No one should ever coerce someone into a lifetime commitment.
I gave into my then-boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose him. I went against my greatest fears and agreed to marriage. I told myself I was being unreasonable. We had been dating for five years.
How could I expect him to keep waiting for me?
It wasn’t fair to him.
This would showcase the absurdity of my own personality. I felt I wasn’t being fair ‘to him.’ But what about me? Who was being fair to me? I was only 23 years old. I certainly wasn’t nearing the spinster category.
He could have waited for me, I was a baby in the adult world.
But he wanted what he wanted.
I prayed God would give me a sign if I wasn’t supposed to marry him.
In retrospect, God did give me a sign. We began arguing. It was something we had never done. I tossed it aside as wedding planning. I knew a lot of couples who fought during the stress of their impending nuptials.
But it wasn’t that.
I was marrying a very difficult man, not the easygoing guy I dated.
A diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder would eventually reveal that.
Once he had gotten a permanent commitment out of me, he no longer felt the need to hide. The distinct narcissistic coldness and cruelty were relieved. They could finally come out and play.
But I had already sold my soul.
I was wearing it on my left finger.
I was committed. I wasn’t the 23 year old girl who had the luxury of dating a man anymore. I was an engaged woman. There was no turning back. Even if we were arguing too much. Even if I found him difficult and cold.
It’s hard to digest now.
The fact I allowed someone to give me a lifetime ultimatum.
Or that I rationalized it.
Marriage shouldn’t require us to sell our souls.
But when an engagement ring goes on our finger, all bets are off.
