2906.
It’s the number of miles separating me from my girlfriend the night I asked her to marry me.
She was 20 and I was 23. She was away at art school in San Francisco, and I was back on the East Coast, having assumed a sabbatical of sorts from school and working at a local bank. It had been two months since we’d begun our relationship, and at this present moment, a few things were clear.
We’d both sworn off the pursuit of a relationship after rough and in one case devastating breakups, so neither of us saw the other coming.
I remember knowing she was the one about 30 seconds into our first conversation, give or take. Proposition of marriage was never a question of if for me, but rather one of when.
I didn’t then, nor had I ever, seen the point of being in a relationship without the intention of marriage. If I wanted to play games, that’s what good friends and go-karts are for. Dating always seemed, at least at the outset, like a perpetual assessment of interest hopefully over good food. So, when the question of marriage sat on my lips, it sat there with me nervous about her response, but confident knowing that my assessment was long over. It had only been two months, but I knew well sooner than then that I wanted her forever. And I wanted to devote myself to her forever, provided she’d have me.
Well, first things first…SHE SAID YES…well, okay, not right away. She said yes after having run up and down the street screaming for ten minutes with me still on the phone, an impressive feat in hindsight considering her asthma. That was almost seven years ago, and we’ve been married for nearly five of them.
I often look back on that time fondly. I mean, yes, it was hard. Long distance relationships are incredibly hard, but it paid dividends for us in that the lack of physical interaction forced us to communicate more. All the difficulties we suffered on the front end have meant even more on this end of the pendulum swing. For though sorrows mounted, we remained committed to each other.
Ooooh. Commitment.
It’s become something of a dirty word these days, hasn’t it? And it makes sense. You see it all over our culture. Look at the way music is consumed these days, with iTunes and streaming platforms allowing people to make mobile playlists as opposed to the 90’s, during which buying one song often meant COMMITTING to a whole album. And when your favorite song is track six of ten, there is at least a 90% chance you will be at least a little bit disappointed with your purchase.
I wonder if this isn’t how my generation views dating. Good or bad, we’ve all got traits like albums have tracks. And supposing you really like a person based on one or a few other traits they have, you know that person could have tons and tons of bad ones, kind of like filler songs surrounding the one you bought the album for. Either way, it’s a toss-up in a world that craves certainty and painlessness. So why risk getting cut deep in real relationship when you can stay surface and swipe right? This sort of thinking capitalizes on the same advantages that an introvert has by hanging out in the shallow end at a pool party. You only ever go as deep as is “safe”, yet no one can ever accuse you of not swimming.
I cannot say relationship is painless without lying to you. But what is true is that real love isn’t painless either. I stake my entire being and purpose on the actions of One who hung on a wooden Cross by way of nails as atonement for my “filler songs”. It was a shocking act that ultimately served as evidence that I am loved. Yet, as much as those who also believe celebrate this death, we rarely acknowledge how gruesome it was. The death of Jesus was a messy, messy affair that ultimately yielded beautiful results. But to get to the beautiful, He had to first be willing to embrace the mess.
We all have baggage. Heck, if you’re anything like me, you probably feel like you’re LaGuardia on Thanksgiving weekend on the inside all the time. My wife and I have seen some really good things and some not so good things in each other. Yet, my due north is this: Without her, I cannot be me. She makes the bad days bearable and the good days so much better. I can’t imagine what my 20’s would have been like had she not been my companion through it all.
Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’ve been cut deep by a person, or people. Maybe you’re just terrified altogether. Again, I can’t promise you it’ll be without pain. But I can tell you that commitment is always worth it.
