Conversations Take A Turn For The Serious


Conversations Take A Turn For The Serious
Buying real estate forces Audrey to internally face some questions.

Conversations that draw tighter and tighter circles around the Big Question neither of us really are sure of the answer to yet: should we just get married? And if not, what?

For so long we've kind of gone happily along, committed but not in any official sense. And I like that because it feels organic and genuine. But these conversations have made me realize that by not directly addressing the uncomfortable issues of what exactly our shared future might look like, and exactly how shared that future even will be, I've made a lot of untrue assumptions about what Frank wants out of our relationship. And, well, life, I guess.


It's hard for me to bring this stuff up, because it is so stereotypically a "girl" thing to do—pressuring a guy about commitment or future plans. But I am also by nature a planner aheader. I don't want to be 35 and living in a one-bedroom apartment when Frank suddenly turns to me and says, "Hey let's have a kid!"

So it's strange to talk about it and it's strange to bring it up. And it's strange to be in a place where if we're going ahead with this house thing, we actually need to know where we stand with money stuff and legal stuff and future stuff.

Even stranger, I guess, is that I'm not even sure what my answers to these questions are anymore. I have been such a staunch hater of marriage and children my whole adolescent/adult life, and have absolutely reviled the idea—often shared with me by wives and mothers—that once I find the "right" person, my opinions will change.

The concept annoyed me because I hated the idea that there's one magical perfect person out there for everyone; I hated the idea that ultimately the man has the transformative power in all heterosexual relationships; and I extra hated the implied notion that my hormones would overpower what my rational mind had decided.

Suddenly, though, I don't know what I think any more. I've realized that most of the scary commitment stuff, like knowing you'd be devastated if your partner left you, or the combining of finances and families, happens in a committed relationship whether you marry or not. It's not something you can magically stave off by not wearing a ring.

Also, though, it is very Frank-based. I don't want to get married. If I were single, I wouldn't long for it. But I would love to be married to Frank. I don't want kids, but I would consider the idea (internet, this is not a solid yes) of having a kid with Frank. I don't want that stuff for itself, but only insomuch as I like Frank and whatever sorts of things need to be done to build a life together, I'll do them. Which is of course what those women were trying to tell me, I was just too dumb to understand.

Talking with my sister and me recently about marriage and families and all that stuff, my mom said something along the lines of how things were simpler when she was making those decisions and even though she had no idea what she was getting into, she just did them and learned as she went. And how she wasn't sure if our way—the neurotic, over-thinking and over-planning way (my words, not hers)—was better. It's a tough call, Mom. I'm not sure either any more. About anything.

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