When I decided to get married, I felt more confused than I felt in love. Some people around me were much more convinced that he was the perfect mate than I was. I feel so embarrassed to admit that. We had known each other for 5 years, 1 of which I refused to speak to him because he continually made rude comments to me – the entire backstory of our relationship is something that I struggle with all the time. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop feeling like a complete idiot for marrying him.
Anyway, we only dated a few months. That short time was a whirlwind full of grand romantic gestures, charming little love notes, fancy dates, and manipulation, deceit, and lies. He did everything that he could to convince me that I was crazy and that he was crazy in love. He even said “I love you” the first week we were dating and insisted that he had wanted to say it since the day that he met me.
When we were in front of people, he was the sweetest man you’d ever meet, charming anyone and everyone. But on the car ride home, I would hear about how I embarrassed him by eating too much or I disrespected him by not gushing about his latest gift to me. There was a laundry list of complaints every time that we were alone. Unfortunately, I was the only one that saw this side of him, leaving me isolated when I would discuss my concerns with others. He was adored, and I began to believe the problem was me.
Just about six weeks after we began our relationship, I went back to college for the spring semester, making us a long-distance couple. Valentine’s Day was a Tuesday, so we had to celebrate on Sunday, February 12, 2012. We went to my church that morning and heard a love-related sermon and then headed to a romantic dinner. As we waited for our food in the candlelight, he asked, “Do you think that you are at a place in life that you could get married?” I had only said “I love you” two weeks before, so I did not assume that he was asking if I was at a place in life to marry HIM. I said, “I do think that I could make a marriage work. I think that I’m old enough to be capable of that level of commitment.”
We went on to have some general conversation about the sermon we had heard that morning and things that we would each do differently in marriage than our parents. Not together. At no point in this evening was I under the impression that any of the discussion was about OUR marriage. It took me 5 years to agree to be his girlfriend. We had only been dating for 2 months.
He drove home the next day, and I had homework to catch up on, so we decided to skip our usual skype session until the official day of love. Tuesday evening rolled around, and I answered his call – “I would have never imagined that this Valentine’s Day I would be speaking to my future wife.”
I was…confused.
“We have to sit down with your parents and tell them that we want to get married so that I can ask your dad’s permission. Then I can propose.”
I was…still confused.
I explained that while I said that I was ready to make a marriage work, I wasn’t sure that I was ready to marry him. It was too soon to make a decision like that. He acted devastated. How could I say that I wanted to marry him and then take it back? What could he have done in the last 48 hrs that made me change my mind? Didn’t I love him enough? He was confident that god told him to marry me, and I needed to let him be the leader of our relationship. If he was willing to give up his amazing single life for me, certainly I wasn’t selfish enough to make him wait any longer. I looked him right in the eyes and told him that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
But wait, did I?
Over the next few weeks, he worked hard to manipulate me by saying things like, “You’ll never find a man that loves you more than I do.” “I’m everything that you’ve ever dreamed of and more.” “Getting engaged shows me that you love me as much as I love you.” “No one else has ever written you love letters like I have.” “Don’t pull away from me because of your trust issues. I am the right man for you.” “I don’t want you to ruin our future together because you are too independent. Let me take care of you.” “If you would just let me in more, I could prove to you that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.” “There are plenty of girls who would know what they have with me. I can’t believe you would let me go.” “I guess you’re not the girl I thought you were if you aren’t even excited to marry me.” “You know that I’ll never be able to trust anyone again if you break my heart.” “The longer you make me wait, the harder you’ll have to work to convince me that you want this as much as I do.”
Subtle and yet, it chipped enough away.
I’ve admitted before that I struggle to feel worthy of other people’s time and attention. His words started making sense. No one had ever “loved” me as much as he did. No one had ever done a grand romantic gesture for me before, and he had done several already. Maybe I did have trust issues. I am too independent, and I never let anyone take care of me. All of my girlfriends are dreaming about getting married, how could I not want to? I’m being selfish if I don’t let him marry me. He has waited for me for 5 years. I should be grateful that he’s chosen me.
4 weeks later, we sat with my parents, and I told them that I wanted to get married. 2 weeks after that, he officially proposed. On August 12, 2012, 6 months after a conversation that I thought was a “someday,” we were married.
This post was sparked out of a question I was asked, in which my answer hasn’t left my mind. Had I ever made a decision that had negative consequences? Of course, we can probably all list a lot of those, but my absolute first thought was, “I chose to get divorced, which ruined someone else’s life.” I then lovingly corrected myself – that decision was for my safety and any consequences that he experienced were brought upon himself. My next thought and ultimate answer at the moment was, “My poor decision was getting married in the first place. I’ll live a lifetime of negative consequences for that.” I’ve been ruminating on that response all week.
I’m not sure that it was my decision at all.
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