Dorie Morgan’s Rising Up
Navigating Twenty-Something Suburban Life
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Archive of "marriage" Category
What does that ring really mean?
On Monday through Friday, my husband wakes up and takes off his wedding band. It is as much apart of our routine as making dinner or visiting my grandparents. A new work day means that for the next eight to nine hours my husband takes off the visible symbol that he is mine and I am his.
For the vast majority of my husband’s time outside of the house, in a strange way, I do not exist. Women do not notice his wedding band because he does not wear it. And in an outsider’s perception, I only exist once I am mentioned.
Of course when he returns from work, his wedding band goes right back on his finger. Or at least right after he takes a shower. I do not doubt my husband’s dedication to our promise when the ring is on or off of his finger.
I find myself asking the question though – if a wedding band was not on my finger, would a stranger realize that I am married? If I did not wear my ring at work, would I feel less married? Does the ring make the marriage?
If the ring does not make the marriage, then my husband spent quite a bit of money on an engagement ring and wedding band that he did not need to.
In a strange way, a ring is almost like a human shield – the ring should be saying “your advances are not wanted”. But why do we need a little piece of metal to say that to others? Why are we not capable of saying it ourselves? Or maybe the ring is saying it to us, as in “their advances are not wanted”.
On the downside of marriage
One of the most infuriating things in the world that you discover post-marriage…
I can’t just change everything to my new last name.
For example, when I started this, I opened my account under my maiden name email address. Unfortunately, I can’t figure out how to transfer my user id to my new email address.
BAH HUMBUG
Anniversaries
Note: While a good part of me is desperate to give a scathing review of Britney Spears and its impact on pop culture and another part of me feels obligate to write something about September 11 and what it means to remember, I have decided that I will not be touching those topics until later in the week. There is still too much hype from Britney and it is so cliché to write about September 11th. I don’t believe that I can address those topics in a meaningful way at this time so I decline to do so until I feel ready. But trust me, I will.
On Saturday afternoon, I found myself shopping in Macy’s for dress clothes for Brian with my father which was not something I had planned to do. I had planned to go to my parents’ house, have my mother iron Brian’s new dress shirt and then head home but my mother’s quick departure to a hair appointment threw a wrench in those plans. I was grateful when my father offered to show me how to iron the dress shirt but one burnt fifty-five dollar French cuff shirt later, I was wondering if I made the correct decision.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, Macy’s was having their Labor Day One Day Sale on Saturday which meant prices were great but the lines were massive. We managed to find something similar to the burnt shirt in the very last one in Brian’s size. The line seemed to go on forever and very quickly, I found myself engaged in awkward conversation with my father.
My dad is not really a much of a talker in the best of circumstances. He’s a quiet guy, insightful. He’s the type of man that you have significant conversations with at home or in a nice restaurant on a predetermined date. He is not the type of man who wants to have a great conversation in line at a Macy’s. Whereas I’m the type of girl who does want to have those conversations.
We very quickly burned through the conversation he was willing to make. So I moved on to birthdays, anniversaries, upcoming significant family events. It just so happens that my parents’ sixteenth wedding anniversary is in two weeks so I asked my dad what he and my mom would like for a gift.
I was quickly alerted that this was an inappropriate question for me to ask. My father, apparently, believes that an anniversary is a private, intimate event between two people. An anniversary has nothing to do with anyone other than the two people who were involved.
I was shocked. And mildly insulted.
In a strange way, I realized that the words coming out of my father’s mouth went against everything I was raised to believe. And somehow, I felt like I was being left out in the cold by my family.
As a child raised with just a mother, I knew any marriage she was able to make was also a marriage with me. A potential husband for her was a potential father for me. We were a package deal and there was no way to separate us. My mother’s second husband adopted me following the wedding, making him the only father I have ever known. The marriage that took place in September of 1991 marks not only the beginning of my mother’s life with my father but the beginning of stability for me as well. Their anniversary is far more than just them.
Even more importantly, I was hurt as a Christian. A wedding between a man and a woman is not a rope with two strands but a rope with three strands representing Man, Woman and God. My father seemed to be leaving God out of his marriage. I also believe that a marriage is an event with in a community and therefore, shouldn’t the anniversary of that marriage also be an event within a community? If it does not continue to have that significance, then why do we take the time and effort to engage in premarital counseling through the Church, have the wedding ceremony take place in a Church and then invite a multitude of family and friends to the event? It seems to me that in order for a marriage to be successful, a community needs to stand behind it and in it. The support of other followers of Christ is what separates Christian marriages from our contemporary counterparts.
I’m still not sure what I want to say to my dad on the matter. I did some sleuthing and discovered where they are celebrating the day with a meal. It’s my intent to do something nice to mark the day, regardless of his desire for my involvement. Maybe its stubbornness or maybe it is a desire to be more Christ like in my actions. I have yet to determine which option it is.
How Quickly Ghosts Return
I received a phone call from an ex boyfriend last night. Not that a call from an ex boyfriend is all that unusual. I’ve had a lot of ex boyfriends and I am still friends with the majority of them. After all, I dated them for a reason and usually the reason I wanted to date them is reason why I want to maintain a friendship after the fact.
This ex boyfriend and I have a lot of history. I truly believed until a year ago that he and I were going to get married. Now I’m married to Brian. The ex and I have had the oddest relationship since day one. The first time I met him, I fell in love with him. I came home and told my mother that I had met the man I was going to marry. Mind you, I was 16 and he was 14. He is one of the rare people in my life that I know I will love forever regardless of the ways we have hurt each other in the past and the ways we will hurt each other in the future.
His phone call terrified me. He didn’t know I was married. And there was something in his voice that scared me as that revelation I was made. I know him the same way I know Brian. Which is also very scary.
Six months ago, I thought I was never going to see him again. Now he calls and says he’s been thinking about me. I almost gave up everything for him and now he’s thinking of me. Great. Day late and a dollar short my friend.
My marriage is my priority. I hope he understands that nothing can change now.
Married and Money
One of the scariest aspects about starting a new life with someone is the financial intimacy that must ensue. We are raised with an idea: someday you will grow up, meet someone you love, get married and your own personal happily ever after will begin. We never raise our children with the idea that marriage is hard, that money might not be plentiful or that we might need to be completely honest.
The money portion is where most of the difficulty lies.
Once you become married, that’s it. Any debt you acrue, at least in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, belongs to both of you. Any money you make, well, that also belongs to both of you. Unfortunately, spending money is easier than making money. And any debt you had prior to the marriage belongs soley to the individual who acquired it.
At the moment, I feel like I am up to my eyeballs in debt. I have student loans, credit card payments, USAA auto insurance, cell phone, plus lord knows what else. It overwhelms me. It stresses me out. It makes me feel as if it is very difficult to be a good wife.
In my head, I have this feel of, if only I made more money. But I know that wouldn’t really help. I would probably spend all of it. I would probably find new things that I “needed”. Or things that I wanted Brian to have.
So I pray. I pray and I try to be more honest. The first step I think is prayer but a close second is being honest with myself. If I’m not honest with myself on this, how can I be honest with Brian? And with our marriage? I am trying to be open about this, about my struggles, and about what my marriage will look like.
May 16 aka 31 days
Last night I watched my almost husband sleep on the floor in green pasley boxers that I bought for him at Christmas as I half read Anne Lamott and I half listened to a thunderstorm roll into the Levittown skies.
I call Brian my “almost husband” because any other term available to describe his roll in my life seems horribly inaccurate. “Fiance” reminds me too much of Seinfeld and “maybe the dingo ate your baby” and I really don’t want to be thinking about Julia Louis Dreyfuss when I think about my mate. The term “boyfriend” seems to downplay Brian’s roll in my life as if he was a leftover relic from my college days with no actual commitment on the horizon. Which he is not. Thank you very much. I cannot yet call Brian my husband because the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and my mother object on the grounds that our legally binding promise has yet to be signed. They apparently do not agree with my belief that engagement is just as binding as marriage.
Almost Husband it is.
Another accurate way to describe Brian is to refer to him as my better half. I do not say that to degrade or berate myself but as our premarital counselor so nicely put it, I have “tendencies” towards “agressive, dominant” behavior and intolerance, and Brian, well, he does not.
She also tried to tell us that the personality test which supplied the information was only a snapshot in time but I would be lying to myself if I did not admit that the statement is accurate on a daily basis.
Clearly, my almost husband is better than your almost husband. Mainly because he puts up with me.
Brian continues to amaze me each day. He has a wonderful ability to see through my, ahem, shit in a way that no one else can. And I have a lot of shit that needs to be seen through. I don’t like to think of myself as someone who fronts, but I do know that I tend to only show one aspect of myself at a time to people in the outside world. All of it is accurate, but I’m still not showing everything. Okay, so maybe I front. My front is so good that even I forget that I’m fronting. At times, my front is like a creeping ivy that has overtaken a house and only a certain almost husband seems to be able to see through that ivy to the potential that lies beneath it.
Brian keeps me nice. I don’t mean that in a way that implies that he pays for everything (although he does pay for quite a bit more than I do). Brian is my personal editor through life. He edits my post it note directions for our family with “please” and “thank you” and “have a nice day” and “:)”. He stops me from leaving post it notes that say “take out the g-ddamn trash” for the wonderful family members who live with us. He let me buy a big soft comfortable mattress even though he would rather sleep on a plank. Why? Because it made me happy. He humors me. He willingly goes to my alma mater to visit my college friends even though he thinks the college I went to was weird and the people I knew were even weirder. He looks for ways to make my life better.
I tend to freak out on him because the dinner table isn’t set, I have at least three more load of laundry to do, and he’s been home for three hours longer than I have and all I wanted to do was paint my nails.
Thank god he lets me.
Bridal Bliss
I am a crappy bride.
And I’m not presenting that in a “I moonlight as bridezilla causing terror in the hearts of bridesmaids everywhere” sort of way.
I’m that bride that cares tremendously about the way this day looks and at the same time, I don’t give a rat’s ass.
I am a crappy bride.
When Brian and I first started to plan our wedding, I really tried, with all of my heart, to engage in a less is more strategy. A wedding is only one day. It does not make a marriage. A marriage will not be better or worse based on the number of guests who attend, how plentiful the flowers were, or whether or not the bridesmaids are perfectly matched. None of those things reflect a level of committment to making a marriage work. They instead reflect a committment to material things.
From the beginning, I wanted this to be simple. I did not have much of a desire for flowers. I wanted this to be a “clean line” wedding. I wanted classic and timeless and less fuss. I wanted more people and minimal fluff. I wanted great pictures of the people I love, not great pictures of flowers and reception sites.
Our wedding is going to take place in our little warehouse church called The Well. (Check out our website at www.thewellpa.com) It is fitting there. Brian and I met because of The Well. It is a place where we belong and where we are supported.
But then…
There is the nightmare that is the reception.
My mother has decided that the reception shall take place at the Middletown Country Club, where she and my father had their reception sixteen years ago. Very over the top, a lavish display of money, and nothing that resembles the clean, classic wedding that Brian and I desire.
I know I should be happy that my parents want to provide this wedding for me, but at the same time, it is not the wedding I want. It is not the wedding that Brian wants. It is the wedding that my mother wishes she had years ago. I feel so ungrateful for all of it.
And I don’t want to feel that way.
I know it will be an enjoyable day for our guests. I know everyone will have a good time and I will have a good time. I know I will be amazed when I see Brian’s face waiting for me. I know I’ll probably cry like a baby at some point.
I’m still kinda sad that it won’t be the wedding that I want.
And I worry that someday I’ll plan the wedding that I dreamed of for my children instead of the wedding that they want.
I have this idea in my head that I should be happy as a bride, but instead, I feel like I just need to survive my wedding.
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