The wedding was a week before Christmas so the flowers were poinsettias. The bride wore a long ruby-red gown, and not just because it was a holiday color. She was seven month’s pregnant and cheekily told her friends that red seemed appropriate since she was a “scarlet” woman.
It was a house wedding in the bride’s parent’s home. The bride’s brother was in charge of the music. He was supposed to carefully place the needle on the record track entitled “For My Lady” from the Moody Blues album. But he was only fourteen-years-old, and nervous. The needle slipped from his fingers and the ceremony began with a loud screech. The bride’s father was supposed to take care of the rings, but he got confused and gave the wrong rings to the best man and maid of honor.
Still, the bride was smiling, holding her right hand high to keep the groom’s wedding band from slipping off.
And who wouldn’t be smiling? She was marrying the man of her dreams. That was forty-five years ago today—and he’s still the man I sleep and dream with.
“Hey,” my husband said this morning slouched down in his chair, a cup of coffee in his hand. “I heard about this experiment. They asked a group of people to choose five magazine subscriptions. They told half the group whatever magazines they chose they were stuck with. But the other half, they said they could switch to other magazine subscriptions if they weren’t satisfied. Guess what happened?”
“I don’t know.” I wasn’t paying attention because I was scrolling down my cell phone.
“The people that had to stick with their first magazine choice said they were more satisfied than the other group who switched around. What I’m saying is…”
You feel like you’re stuck with me? But no, this was my husband trying to be romantic on our anniversary. His little analogy brought a question to my mind, though.
Is marriage just about sticking it out? Is that what’s important? Endurance?
When my daughter was dating she kept telling me, “Oh yeah, that guy! He’s great, but mom, we’re too different—and I refuse to ‘settle.’” To which I always replied, “It’s not so much the choice you make, it’s what you do with the choice.”
I desperately wanted my daughter to find the security and comfort I’d found in a committed, stable relationship. The commitment was the thing I thought, until I met a woman who married an abusive, controlling man. She was in a class with me years ago, getting a certification to teach. Every time we walked out of the school, her husband was waiting in the car for her. At first I thought how kind it was of him to pick up his wife. One day I even approached the car window to say hello, but he didn’t smile and barely mumbled a greeting.
“Get in the car!” he snarled at his wife.
The last week of the semester I asked my classmate if she’d like to go to lunch with me to celebrate. I told her I’d drive her home afterward and give her husband a chauffeur break.
“No, no. I can’t do that,” she said. “He wouldn’t like it. The only reason he’s letting me go to school is to finish my teaching certification. He says I have to get a real job, not just babysit other people’s kids. He says he’s tired of being the only bread winner. But honestly, he hasn’t worked in a while.”
Though my husband and I have been married for forty-five years, that doesn’t mean everyone can or should stay in their marriage. Being a persevering, committed partner can only take you so far if you’re in an abusive relationship. There are so many important pieces to marriage: love, respect, separate bathroom sinks. Some marriages work, and others don’t. I’m just thankful today, ours did.