My husband is a great guy. He’s smart, funny, a terrific
father, and a great life partner. He is not, however, particularly romantic. Before
we became engaged I, like many young women, dreamed of a thoughtful, memorable,
write-a-book-about-it kind of proposal, but when I suggested that such a
thing would be nice, Bill was clear that he thought elaborate proposals were
stupid. He thought things like talking to my father (“getting permission”) and proposing
while on bended knee were old-fashioned and sexist, and told me that such gestures would not be forthcoming. So the moment that we agreed to marry could most
accurately be described as a non-event, but I said yes anyway.
We picked out a nice ring and started making plans, even
though we were both fresh out of college and unemployed. Nothing about our
future was clear or firm. We picked a date and planned a wedding on a fairly
modest budget. We took a few risks in our arrangements (like planning an
outdoor reception with no back-up plan in case of rain) and added a few
personal touches, like a carriage ride to the reception. Everything else was
lovely but fairly standard: four attendants each but no flower girls or ring
bearer, beautiful flowers, an organist
but no vocalist. Great hors d’ oeuvres and a beautiful cake, but no sit-down
dinner, no dance hall, and no DJ.
I’d like to say that the wedding went off without a hitch,
but actually the hitches are the things I remember best. I woke up on my wedding day still a little
drunk from the rehearsal dinner the night before. As the day unfolded, I
sobered up and managed to get everyone and everything in the right places. Except
I didn’t have a check for the florist, and I had to make a quick trip to buy shoes
for my going-away outfit…but when the time for the wedding arrived, I was
dressed and ready to walk down the aisle.
About five minutes before the ceremony, the minister found
me to inform me that Bill had forgotten to bring my wedding ring. Just plain
forgot it. So I took off my engagement ring and handed it off to the minister,
who gave it to Bill, who placed it on my finger right after the vows….which Bill
also forgot. The minister helped Bill—poor nervous guy—to stumble through. And
then we were married, and were off in our carriage to enjoy our outdoor
reception.
That was thirty years ago this week. While I am sure that
even then there were weddings far more elaborate than ours, these were the days
before Pinterest and shows like “Say Yes to the Dress” turned weddings into the
elaborate, insanely-detailed events that they are now. I’ll admit that part of
me wishes that we could redo some things—there are some very cute and creative
ideas out there!—but in truth we were more focused on our marriage and the life
we would live together after the wedding than we were on the wedding itself. And that I wouldn’t change.
When we got married, people didn’t talk about “soul mates.” Love
and compatibility are important, of course, but even the most perfectly matched
couples learn that love doesn’t actually conquer all. In every marriage there
will be struggles over money and family and any number of issues, large and
small. At the end of the day (or week, depending on your standards), someone
still has to do the dishes, and you may not always agree on who that should be.
Thirty years ago, I don’t think I could have defined what a
soul mate is, but I think I can now. It’s someone with whom you’ve shared a
lifetime of everyday memories and some great adventures. It’s someone who supports
you through cancer and job loss, and someone who trusts you enough to be
willing to lean on you during his or her tough times. It’s someone with whom
you have a million inside jokes and shared secrets. It’s someone who encourages
you and supports you; someone who loves you exactly as you are and yet still challenges
you to be better. It’s someone with whom you share a past, the present, and the
future.
Love is a choice, and marriage is the commitment of two
people willing to work it all out: for better and for worse, for richer and for
poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. It’s not
particularly romantic, but who needs romance when you can have a genuine soul
mate.
