Letters published by advice columnists are usually in that 2-3 sigma range and rarely the 4+ sigma. The one that followed this one was from a woman who was with her husband for 12 years, married 5, and wondered about bringing up the question of kids. He is on meds for depression, so the doctor would need to dial those down to bring up his sex drive enough to get the deed done. But I digress.
Carolyn Hax (may be a nom d’advice) had this letter and response that I thought were pretty good.
Dear Carolyn:
My boyfriend and I have been together for five years now, and we are in our mid-20s. We both agree we are very happy together right now, as well as in the foreseeable future. He does not, however, really believe in projecting deep into the future and basing major decisions on how we might feel — for instance, “We might still want to be together in 45 years, so let’s get married now.”
I, however, do think it is feasible — to a certain extent. You figure out how you feel now, look at problems, project reasonably, then take a leap of faith. I want the leap of faith in order to feel secure in our future together; he doesn’t think it is important.
Really, I want to know that if we have kids together, I will not be a single mom like my mom; if I/our life is too boring, he will not leave me for more excitement while I raise the children (I want adventure, too); that he will be there with me through thick and really, really thin.
I guess I just accept that he is saying he cannot give those assurances. I would enjoy my (great) life so much more if I were not worried about this, while I suspect he would enjoy his (great) life more if he felt he weren’t tied down. How can I resolve this?
– D.
Plenty of those mutual leaps of faith produce single parents. The assurance you seek from a lifetime commitment is flimsier than you imply.
It’s not just about words, or even about legal status, though both have their place. It’s about character, too, and values, and a sense of responsibility; it’s about self-knowledge, and the ability both to articulate and act on that; it’s about striking a balance between selflessness and selfishness that’s both palatable and sustainable for you both. It’s about realism.
Character means you regard each other’s needs as equal to your own, and won’t knowingly benefit from relationship terms that come at the other’s expense.
It also means you’re honest brokers with each other — on everything from feelings to dirty dishes.
Values determine your course through life. You have your priorities, he has his; either you’re heading in the same direction, or bound to diverge at some point.
A sense of responsibility means neither of you enters a significant joint undertaking (marriage, children, whatever) without agreeing on Plan A for seeing it through, fully intending to stick to Plan A, and being game for Plan B if the unintended occurs.
Self-knowledge means you won’t lie to yourself about X because you’re afraid the truth will cost you Y. Acting on it means you don’t promise anything that requires denial or sublimation of self. Articulating it means you’re able to say what is valuable to you, and why.
Balance means you receive what you need without begging, and you give ungrudgingly — both because you like someone, and because what fulfills that person is something you have in abundance.
Realism speaks for itself, but only if you’re ready to hear what it says.
So. He won’t commit; you’d rather not leave. Resolve that by seeing who he is, who you are, and whether they add up to maturity and compatibility — two things you can trust.
I was drawn into a conversation over lunch at work about some of these things. A younger colleague is engaged to be married to a woman who has a young son. I was thinking about this column and wondering how he would self-evaluate with regard to these issues.
The response is very well crafted and starts with a single sentence that is then developed. Each of the sentences which follows could be the lead line for a chapter of a book about life. For me, the most telling line is: Self-knowledge means you won’t lie to yourself about X because you’re afraid the truth will cost you Y. I was talking with Bookzilla about this on the way to school yesterday. I was trying to get across the point that honesty, both with oneself and with others, is the basis of character. I don’t know if I communicated it well.
[...] had referenced something from Carolyn Hax before, here, and she ran something from one of her readers that I thought was pretty good. While I’m [...]