For as long as I can
remember, I have always wanted to be married.
And not in that way that
young girls have been taught to be “wife material”. My role model for wifedom
was always my mom: one of my earliest memories is of her walking me to
preschool, after which she would catch two buses to get to work. I have just
always wanted the idea of what marriage would bring: unconditional, unrefined
love. I wanted the house with the hubby and the kids because I genuinely
believed (and, god forbid, still do) that it would be kinda nice.
I look at my friends from
high school, and it has made me think that perhaps I may be a little behind. They
own houses with their long-term boyfriends. I see posts on social media of
engagement parties and weddings and not-so-cute-but-they’re-mine babies and
think that maybe my life plan is not where it is meant to be. At this point in
her life, even my stoic mother had three children.
But I am beginning to
understand things a little bit more now that I am old. (And by old, I mean too
close to 30 to celebrate birthdays.) I recently had a conversation with a
potential husband-suitor, and he told me that he wouldn’t get married until he
felt that he was financially secure. And I was a bit upset that he didn’t think
that love would carry us through the “rough years”. I always thought that I would
marry a man who would be quite content to spend the first three years of our lives
together living in the back room of an understanding older cousin.
Unfortunately, my parents
were naïve enough to send me to a liberal arts school that made me think beyond
the norms that our society endorses. I
began to think about what I wanted from marriage, and what my male
peers/counterparts/comrades (choose your politically-affiliated word) think
marriage is. For them, it’s the moment where everything comes together; for
women, it’s the moment where everything begins.
I should probably preface
the next part of the article by saying I. Am . A. Feminist. Sure, if your value
system coincides with Napoleon’s, this word may make you squirm. But let me assure you that, as a feminist, I
believe purely that choice should be universal, not gender-specific (sorry,
Trump).
For most women, marriage
is prescribed: it’s sort of the thing you do after your parents (read your father’s pay check) have paid
for your educational interests, and now there’s sort of nothing else to do so,
hey, why not? Of course I’m not bashing them women-folk who CHOOSE to be
housewives, but generally speaking, women have believed in ‘Beauty and the
Beast’; how we are gracious enough to let love happen to us accidentally,
instead of by choice.
So my thoughts on marriage
and love have changed a bit. Sure, I still want to be married. But when my
partner talks about being “financially stable enough to get married”, I see
that as being a challenge for where I see myself. I want to be in a place where
I can offer as much as he offers, whether that is in terms of finance, or my
independence. I want to see marriage as another accomplishment, as opposed to
the goal.
Because, I am all sorts
of amazing. I didn’t need Beyoncé to tell me to stand in formation. I’ve been
in formation for the last twenty-nine years: grafting and planning the life
that I want to live. And that life definitely includes marrying a man who looks
like Don Draper and acts like Matt Damon. But I don’t need that. I want that.
And my general
awesomeness dictates that that’s what I deserve. And you’d best believe that’s
what I am going to get.
"I have thrust myself into this maze,
Haply to wive and thrive as best I may." - The Taming of the Shrew
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