I remember my mom had idioms and proverbs for any occasion and used them often. They offer common wisdom that is simple and hard to argue with, and I had a propensity to challenge things, so I was not a big fan. One that I found particularly infuriating was “Never say never” and over the years I learned that like many other this saying proved to be true.
I used to say I will never get married when I was younger. In high school I was learning more about the feminist movement and saw a lot of value in personal freedom, especially in the context of a culture with strictly defined gender roles and expectations, which were also how I understood what family life was.
When I met my husband, I was only 20 years old and he was 22. We were young and just wanted to have fun. He was sweet and handsome with dreamy blue eyes and a warm smile. He was telling me stories from the books he read and plots of novels he was planning to write, and I was mesmerized. I was trying to impress him too — looked nice, was funny and cooked for him my best dishes.
We were sitting in my parents’ kitchen and he was slurping on hot cabbage soup I just made, when he proposed for the first time. “I am happy with everything about you, let’s get married!” — he said and put another spoonful in his mouth. It startled me, we have only been dating a couple of months, so I laughed it off and suggested we keep dating and see where it goes. I was still in college, never had a job or lived by myself and was looking forward to first becoming an adult, and only after would dare make life-changing decisions. But I was definitely flattered and loved the security of knowing he was serious about us, so I could appreciate the value of commitment before I could see the value of matrimony.
I did not have a chance to see a lot of happy families in my life. My parents were regularly arguing about little things and were somewhat mean to each other, but my mom always proudly declared that no one in our family ever divorced, because marriage is sacred and forever, where you choose to stay faithful and dedicated. I struggled with the idea of being devoted to a person you are not happy with but also got disheartened learning from my friends that their parents were cheating or getting a divorce despite seemingly good family situation. Just like another saying my mom used, which is actually a quote from Leo Tolstoy’s novel Anna Karenina: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” I wish I could see what a happy family looked like instead of all the ways people made each other miserable in a marriage. I wasn’t sure I could make someone happy forever, it was too big of a challenge. I didn’t even know how to be happy myself or what I needed to be more content.
There was this guy, who made me smile, who was kind and smart, and meeting him surely became a huge source of joy for me. We spent all our free time together, everything we did was fun and felt special. It was such an adventure, when we went on our first vacation together to Egypt. We stayed in a cheap beachfront all-inclusive resort surrounded by palm trees and sandy dessert stretching for miles behind the hotel perimeter. The trip was cheap because in February the Red sea cools down to about 68F and most tourists opt for warmer months. But we were thrilled. We took a day trip to see the Great Pyramids and a massive museum of Egyptian Antiques in Cairo, where the gravity of time and history reveals itself and makes one realize how short human life is. It was one of many discoveries we were destined to make together, that will weave the bond between us for years to come.
I mentioned that the trip wasn’t expensive, because he paid for it. He always paid for everything we did together like going out or traveling and often got me gifts and flowers without ever questioning this century old tradition. He was generous and cordial and never made me feel like I owed him. He didn’t spend money to establish power or control me, he’d give everything he had to make me smile. And I didn’t fight him on it. I only had a small stipend I was getting from college for excellent grades, and that was my pocket money. While he worked full-time and was finishing college. Inexplicably, the patriarchal idea of a man being the breadwinner did not make him the boss and he admired my independence and autonomy in a relationship. We didn’t know what we were doing. It was a patchwork of naïve understanding of the nature of a relationship between a man and a woman we held, while trying to navigate and figure out a more modern and respectful way of being a couple. But if I were to have money, I would have likely tried to establish a more egalitarian approach, but I had no leverage, and felt inferior.
During the summer break I stayed at his place most of the time, without much to do while he was at work, I did house chores and cooked dinner most nights. One evening he came home with a gift for me, which was a toothbrush and a pair of adorable fuchsia pink slippers. “I want you to live with me, let’s get married!”- he said with a beaming smile. That’s how he proposed the second time. We’d been dating for close to a year then, and I really wanted to live with him too, but saying “yes” was not an option for me. I laughed it off again, saying the proposal could not be done with a toothbrush. I knew he proposed, because my parents would never agree to us just living together and resented the idea of sex before marriage. I could not bring myself to take the vows of eternal love and devotion under the pressure of archaic norms and expectations. I did not want to ever get married and become subservient. So I chose the rebellious route of secretly moving out of my parents’ house and told them I wasn’t coming back home over the phone. They took it surprisingly well, primarily because there wasn’t much they could do, and their notion of unwavering loyalty to family members played in my favor this time.
I was determined to enter the civil union as an equal and contributing member, so I found a tutoring job and also worked as a guide for American exchange students during my last year of full-time college studies. My earnings were less than a third of what he was making, but we put all our money together and started a saving fund. I did all the housework to compensate for my financial inadequacy, and that only added to the heavy workload of school and work I had to juggle. Being an adult was nowhere near as much fun as I imagined. But he was great and so worth it. Yet all the pressure I put on myself of trying to stay independent, make money and fulfil all the wifely duties began to build up resentment in me. I was exhausted and miserable, which only confirmed my suspicions that family life was not for me.
After college I got a job as a full-time English teacher in a small private college, where pay was more than double of what state colleges offered, but despite all the hard work, time consuming planning and homework checking, I didn’t do great. The stress of public performance in front of the class being only several years older than my students, where I had to establish authority and prove my mastery of the subject, was wearing me out and the prospect of never making more than my partner was really unsettling. He never complained about it, it was my personal conviction that making less money put me at disadvantage. I could not move out and rent my own place, I could not afford a vacation and going out on a regular basis with my own money. What I feared the most had already happened to me — I was trapped.
After a year of teaching I decided to look for something else. One of the biggest food companies of our state had several openings and after a rigorous interview process, IQ and personality tests I got a job in marketing. The starting salary was double what I was previously making, and they provided a lot of training, because marketing was very new in Russia and most companies just trained employees to corporate standards. I can learn fast and work hard, so I got promoted a couple of times and my salary was finally equal of that of my partner. I was so involved and focused on my career I was less available at home, feeling wiped out most evenings and often finishing projects on the weekends. I had to work twice as hard to make the same amount of money, but I finally felt equal.
Unfortunately, my career affected our relationship — long hours and regular business trips drastically reduced time we could spend together, and I didn’t have much energy for romance and deep conversations. We were getting distant, and instead of amends I started renegotiations to address the disbalance of power and how much work I had to do around the house. It felt like we were getting too comfortable and stopped trying for each other, which I worried was the reason married people end up miserable under the same roof. That was not what I wished for us and knew we could do better.
Turned out he had a grandiose plan to change our life for the better — move to America for him to get a PhD and take a chance to build a great future in a more civilized and progressive country. I did not appreciate it and had a lot of resistance, since it entailed giving up everything I was used to and had achieved and starting from scratch, there was no plan for me but to follow him and be there. I was hoping he wouldn’t be accepted. I was scared, I did not want to leave my family and friends behind, abandon my draining yet very fulfilling job, betray my country and reinvent myself for a guy I never wanted to marry in the first place. We were on the verge of a breakup and it made me very sad. I could not face him and break it off. I went to my parents’ house to stay over the weekend. I was grieving the end of the two of us, crying on the couch with my thoughts racing through the years we spent together, thinking about the good and the bad, playing out all the catastrophic scenarios I could think of, when I realized what would hurt me the most. I would have been devastated, if he were to go by himself and met some girl there, and she would be gazing at his kind blue eyes and felt the warmth of his cozy hug and made him happy, while I had chosen to give up on us and the love of my life. That revelation turned my life around, I was no longer afraid to love forever.
I called to see how he was doing. It turned out he told his best friend that he was devastated because I left and felt that there was nothing he could do to change that. So a crowd showed up at his place — a wild bunch of his childhood friends with lots of alcohol to cheer him up. The party was on, so I just told him that I wanted to go with him wherever he chose and let go of doubt. Everything went back to normal and I was at peace with myself, finally enjoying what I had all along.
In about a month we had a 5-year anniversary since the day he said he loved me. Come to think of it, it is very symbolic that it was the first big thing that started us on our journey. I did not expect anything extravagant and romantic, since we’d gotten pretty casual with gifts and celebrations over the years. The night before I noticed a huge sheet of paper sticking out of his office bag and took a peek — it was a certificate for a helicopter tour of our city. I had never been on a helicopter and got excited, I did not say anything but was glad I figured out the surprise. The next morning, he said we are going out and I dressed up nice. We drove to the heliport. I chose the front seat next to the pilot, he took the back one, since he was somewhat afraid of heights. The pilot asked if we wanted a mellow ride or something more exciting, and I chose top thrill for our special occasion, he said he didn’t mind. After several minutes of dramatic turns and accelerations, the helicopter began a steep ascend to what the pilot said was the maximum altitude, then suddenly he screamed: “Engine’s off!” and we were free falling face down towards the ground. My heart skipped a beat, tears of terror running up my face when I saw a huge red heart-shaped banner on the lawn of the heliport with “MARRY ME!” spelled in bold letters. At what felt like just a few feet from the ground the pilot took the helicopter out of the nosedive and said he couldn’t hear my answer. I was dumbfounded. I could not speak. The pilot threatened another freefall if I didn’t respond. “Ok, I guess” — I mumbled. I can only imagine how scary the stunt could have been for someone afraid of heights. We finally landed and got out of the helicopter to a storm of applause and cheers of the crowd watching our risky ride. He kneeled and put a ring on my finger. His father, who was responsible for spreading out the banner while we were up in the air, ran towards me to hug and kiss with his prickly mustache. Someone shoved a bouquet of roses into my arms. I could barely catch my breath and my heart was pounding with exhilaration. That was how he proposed the third and last time, and it left me no way to back out. We headed to a restaurant for a romantic dinner and he talked about all the things we were great at and many amazing things ahead.
I did not expect any of it and was taken by surprise, but I felt great about marrying someone who could still take my breath away after many years together. He knew me, he got me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. And after I overcame the resistance to the seemingly stale convention of marriage, I discovered how many of the aspects of it I held dear to my heart all along and allowed myself to appreciate it: closeness and affection, respect and support, intimacy and commitment. I surrendered to love and broke many more of my old “nevers”.
I started looking for a simple practical dress, nothing extravagant or poofy, classic color, no cleavage, yet nothing felt right, I looked plain and not up to the occasion. I tried longer sleek gowns, mermaid style and even a-line. I got tired of putting them on and would just walk into salons to look and nothing caught my eye, it was hopeless. I was afraid, that after it took me 5 years to agree to get married, I was going to spend 5 more looking for the right dress. I do not take life easy. My friend insisted she joined me, since I was getting disheartened, we walked into a store not far from the office on our lunch break and there it was — a huge dazzling mess of ivory lace and taffeta with glitzy rhinestones all over. I said I loved it, and my friend laughed since she thought I was joking. I was not. I put it on and knew it was the one, I was going to wear a ballgown with a huge veil. So now going to city hall to get the paperwork was not an option, I had to have a big ceremony and a huge banquet hall and a crazy dance party, because I was getting married only once and we were going to make sure we celebrate. I took his last name. I wear my wedding band ever since. All the things, I thought were pointless or oppressive, became full of meaning. I could not believe myself I was the same person who never wanted to get married. Apparently, despite my fears giving yourself up was not required, yet boundless elation guaranteed.
We went to Thailand for our honeymoon, where the sand is white and powdery, and water is pure turquoise. We planned a ceremony on the beach for the two of us and my friend who was living in Singapore was able to join with her husband. It was a dream come true. On a secluded beach we walked barefoot down the isle of sand covered with flower petals, hand in hand to the song Innamoramento by a French singer Mylène Farmer. I had only seen beach weddings in movies, as well as flowers in one’s hair, floral garlands, sunset over the ocean and all-consuming love. I never knew it was real, I never knew it was possible and it was happening to me. I broke down in tears. I looked into his blue dreamy eyes and was grateful for the patience he had for me to get there. When you are cuddling in a hammock sipping on a cocktail out of a pineapple the urge to prove yourself dissipates into the hot breezy air.
The following year was the happiest in my life, the bond we had built was stronger than ever, and it was sealed by legal paperwork and public approval. I keep thinking how my preconceived and very distorted notion of what marriage is and supposed to be held me back from fully committing to my husband. The traditional wifely role of submission seemed repulsive to the point that I was willing to dismiss the idea of ever getting married, but I learned that instead of getting stuck between complicity and rebellion, we can deliberately choose our path with an open heart and no fear. The power in a relationship does not come from money. I spent years making more when he was in grad school, then stayed at home with our son for a while not making anything, and nothing is wrong with that. Power comes from saying “I love you” first, apologizing right away, forgiving, understanding and being patient. Love is power to be happy, to be kind, to be a better self and be grateful for every day you spend together. I am glad I took my time to figure out that those are the principles I want my marriage to be based on, and we can decide who is up to doing the dishes tonight without strife. And I am gladly sharing my inferences just like my mom used to bring up those paradoxically simple yet accurate idioms and proverbs.
