The List

(My wedding cake topper – Image by Swell Photography)

 

On July 4th, Kelly Diels of Cleavage started the post that I haven’t been able to write an intro to:

“I wish, when I married, that I had grasped the magnitude of the commitment I was making. I wish, when I was divorcing, that I hadn’t collapsed my world into a binary choice of leaving/saving self and staying/sacrificing self. I wish I had realized that in every marriage there is a conversation between space and intimacy. That you can have space and intimacy in a marriage. That you don’t have to marry the perfect person. That there is no perfect person. That leaving can indeed save your soul but so can staying. That even though leaving seems easier, it is probably much, much harder. “

(“The Difference Between ‘Healthy Boundaries’ and Disposable Friendships,” Kelly Diels, July 4, 2010, Cleavage, emphasis added)

 

I’m not divorced, and don’t foresee divorcing, but I like the point that she makes, the point that I’ve been trying to make to my friends, there is no perfect person. More…

When I was twelve, my cousins and I would make lots of lists, as little girls tend to do. “Rules for Fashion” including such gems as “Nails must be clean and polished AT ALL TIMES — NO EXCEPTIONS!!” and, “Try to learn as much as possible about Taylor Hanson!” We also made our individual lists of “What I Want in a Husband.” Of course, as a 12-year-old, the list had things like, “Knows how to be cool (isn’t a nerd!)” but as I got older—13, 14, 15, 16, all the way until 21—I kept the list, and regarded it as a living document, something that changed as my needs changed. Things like, “knows how to be cool,” were replaced by “is good in bed,” and other things I thought might be important to me in the long haul.

When I met my husband I was in a really bad place. Emotionally, physically, my life was a mess. I was looking for potential mates using a roadmap I’d penned when I was twelve, and had continued to edit through a child’s lens. I had already discovered that, in my experience, the heartthrob wasn’t the smartest, and that I liked funny men, but I continued to weigh everyone I met against this list, this standard set forth by a child. As a result, I was miserable, and people constantly disappointed me.

I hate to be clichéd and say that when I met my husband, all of this changed, but it did. I love my husband, but he didn’t fit my list. In fact, when I met him, I was intrigued, but cautious because he violated several of the rules. For his sake, I won’t say which, but the fact was, he wasn’t my “ideal” candidate for a mate.

Then we started dating, and I stopped seeing all the other people that “fit” the description of my future husband. I started seeing where my list ended and their flaws began, and that enforcing these laws on myself was making me miserable.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this was it, this was my guy, and I wanted to marry him and have all those disgusting little babies I’d never wanted, and live in a tiny house on a grad student income, this was it.

Of course, this terrified me, and I went and dug out the list. I went down it, line-by-line, coming up with reasons why B’s violation of the rule was okay because, “but he makes me happy!” I saw the answer quickly. One of them had to go.

I have to admit, I struggled with this—do I abandon nine years of “knowing what I want,” to take a chance on somebody? In the end, the choice was clear. I ripped the list, unceremoniously, and threw it out. I still have the earliest iterations of it, but the final draft was gone—no need, right?

I thought I was alone in this fixation on my list, but as I got older, and as I began to see my single friends get older, I realized that this “list” is something we all carry within ourselves. It’s an impossible standard we hold our lovers to everyday, making it impossible for us to find “the one,” if he or she exists at all.

When one of my girl friends is interested in a mate, they go through all the reasons they like him (or her,) all the things they don’t like about him, and usually pre-judge the relationship’s durability based on those items.

As someone who’s already gone through this “people don’t change, and nobody’s perfect” realization, I usually offer some caution—being my friend entails getting advice you don’t necessarily want to hear, you’ve been warned—and some thoughts on why the little imperfections can be endearing, or why that bad boy is never going to stop leading you on and settle down.

I’m not saying I have all the answers—I struggle with relationships more than most people—but I feel that, in this area, I’ve been pretty successful, and it’s hard to see my friends make decisions based on “The List.”

Of course, everyone has to come to their on conclusions and find their own way, but I wonder if there’s something we can do, if we can somehow help the future generation avoid the problem of “The List.” Maybe all those stories about Prince Charming and Mr. Right are to our detriment—well, not “maybe”—and giving us false ideas of what to expect in a partner.

I think, for all women who are single or unhappy in their relationships, it would be good to think through your list, write it down, and tear it to shreds. Go through and find the flaws in each of your “musts” and stop worrying about them. (Hint: as you get older, sex isn’t as important, being friends is.)

Marriage is a partnership. Use the guidelines you would use if you were going into business with this person—then add in the romance. If flowers and gifts are a deal breaker for you, maybe you need to look at the real reason you are so concerned about those things—maybe the problem lies in you. Perhaps you don’t feel appreciated because your self-esteem is low and you’re too hard on yourself. I always like to look within for the answer—again, I apologize to my friends for this type of advice!—before I toss out a person.

I’m not saying romance isn’t important, or that gifts have no value—my husband has been very generous to me, and very romantic at times—but those things are filigree, pretty bits to make the whole product look good. If you start with a beat up old chair, adding filigree isn’t going to help it, but if you start from a strong, well-built frame, filigree might be just the thing.