On Getting Married 'Late'
I feel the need to make a disclaimer right off the bat (and we won’t unpack that need, that’s not entirely what this entry is about) and say that I’m not throwing shade at anyone who was lucky enough to find their person early or “on time” - like my husband - or chose not to link themselves to another human at all.
Single Meredith. Walking cats and doing what she wants.
I’m lucky enough to have friends of all ages. When I was younger, I got very caught up in who was older and who was younger. There was a bit of a hierarchy. And it worked both ways. Older and you could drink legally, you had done more things, you ostensibly knew more things. Younger and you were, ostensibly, doing these things at a younger age, if you were indeed doing the same things. And that’s about it in reality, but in society, younger meant … younger. We put a high value on youth. Which I’ve always found very interesting.
I remember being the youngest of my group of friends. Being snuck into bars. Being banned from a bar once for that very reason. And being slightly pleased with being the youngest. This was not entirely due to society’s influence. Growing up I was always the oldest. I was the second oldest of all my cousins and I was the oldest girl. There was also a different responsibility expectation put on girls than boys that I’m not going to delve into now, but that I definitely felt instinctively. I’m also a person that assumes responsibility fairly willingly. I used to adopt slightly older friends as older siblings. I desperately wanted an older peer that I could look up to and follow. And I think that’s why I sought out older friends for the most part. There is something instinctive among decent people regarding taking care of someone younger than you. Especially someone who’s not a complete brat.
So I believe that was part of my thrall in being surrounded by caring, older peers. But even then I remember thinking ‘someday I will be the older one.’ And someday did come to be.
Middle adulthood is interesting in that you are still ‘young’ as far as many physiological and biological definitions go. But quite ‘old’ especially if you are female, insofar as societal norms go.
And I think it’s bullshit.
My parents married young. My mom was 20 and my dad was 25. They are still together and it’s amazing. In fact, they win that ‘longest married’ dance at weddings so often that when I asked the DJ to do one at my wedding I was astounded that another couple, their good friends, beat them by a year or two. I had an excellent example of marriage to model as a kid. I didn’t have great examples of not being married at a certain age.
I was always spunky, but also always small. I was lucky enough to have boy cousins and a dad that encouraged ‘wrasselin’ so that I wasn’t afraid of physicality, but I didn’t take martial arts classes until I was in my late twenties. So there was always an air of ‘get someone to protect you’ floating around. Get someone to walk you home, walk you to the train, give you a ride, etc. And again, I won’t unpack how many women have done that and still been assaulted.
I had my first long term relationship when I was eighteen. He was nineteen. We met in my hometown right after I graduated high school and started a long-distance relationship for a year. After much discussion, including what would happen if we broke up, he decided to transfer to my school. After two years we broke up. The relationship wasn’t right for many months before we broke up. The how’s and why’s aren’t important. The important part is that I was convinced that I would never meet anyone else again. I was twenty. Older than I had ever been. The same age my mom was when she got married. I was convinced that if I broke it off with this person then I ran a good chance of spending the rest of my life alone.
I was very precious with my stationary back then. (I still have hoards of it that I’m going through.) If it was beautiful paper, then it was only to be used for the most important of things. I took a piece of stationary and wrote in thick, black Sharpie, “I can do this. I can do it alone if I have to.” and taped it to the side of my desk against the wall so no one else would ever see it. I broke up with him. It was hard. We cried. I wanted to, and tried to, stay friends. Of course, it failed dismally. But it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. And I am exceedingly glad that I had the courage.
I was not alone for the rest of my life.
She said, shocking no one. I did have a few semi-serious relationships after that. Anywhere from four to six months. Then I moved to England for a year. (I know, so terrible, right?) Had one terrible relationship there, a few short, also not great ones, and a few amazing, well beyond average friendships. Then came back home. Obviously my eighteen-year-old self was right, yeah? Probably seemed that way to twenty-two-year-old Meredith. At the very least she felt damaged by experiences that again, aren’t the point of this entry.
I came home with only a few credits necessary to finish my two degrees. I crammed as many in as possible and wore myself to a nub my first semester back in Louisiana. My best friend John, who had been my one rock, graduated right after I returned. All of the social structures that I had known when I left where completely rearranged. Somehow, and don’t take this lightly, I had become a much better actor. Even I could feel that and had no explanation for it. I found a relationship in a very unlikely place: a friend of a friend whom I had only met on an online blog that was probably one of the very first blogs in existence. (I had some very brilliant friends.) We were together for almost a year. He knew I wasn’t staying in Louisiana and I knew he had no desire to leave Baton Rouge. We started a relationship knowing it would end. It was still very healing for both of us, I think. I can’t entirely speak for him, but for some reason he felt that a ‘pretty’ girl was outside of his reach. For me, I felt a relief that I could be with someone who desired and cared for me deeply, but that I didn’t have to physically fend off all the time.
That’s not dandruff, it was snowing in Baton Rouge on New Years Eve.
We kept in touch after I moved and he visited once or twice, but it became very obvious that we wouldn’t have been compatible in the long run. I’m not in touch with him now, but I’m glad we were there for each other at that time.
My first boyfriend in Chicago was Irish off the boat. He was my first of many things. He was my first official loss of virginity (I know, late, not ashamed, not proud, just acknowledgment.) He was four years older than me. He had been in Chicago six months longer. I felt that he knew so much more. At the same time, I had been to Ireland. I had lived in England. I knew what it was to live in a foreign country and I had visited his very city. He was charming. So was I. We were swept up for a bit. I honestly thought this was it. I was 22 he was 26, perfect. This was the perfect time to meet your soulmate in the modern age, I thought.
I feel the need to stop right now and say that I have never wanted children. I have also had people argue with me about this. And I have never not wanted children enough to argue back. I always thought, yeah, who knows, maybe my biological clock will start ticking and I’ll want to be a mom. Who’s to say?
I discovered a bar where you could paint for free when I was single. It was one of my favorite places. I think I was grumpy because my painting wasn’t chosen to hang on the wall of the bar.
Just after our one-year anniversary he broke up with me. It was devastating. There was no reason other than he just didn’t want to be dating me anymore. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have time to cheat. And I think you kind of know when someone’s been cheating. He was just … done. I don’t know why. He cried when he broke up with me. He tried to stay friends until I told him to stay away because I couldn’t do it. I saw him again once in a Starbuck years later. I was honestly glad to see him. He was passing by the window outside where I was studying and I waved. He came in, bought a coffee and we chatted for a bit. I don’t know what I would have been like if we had ended up together. But I do know that I had more growing to do.
I honestly don’t feel like breaking down my two long-term relationships between him and Dean. I won’t have as nice things to say about them and it’s also not the point of this entry.
The point is this:
I am incredibly thankful for those periods of time when I was single. When I learned how I responded to hurt and how I grew and recovered and strengthened afterward. I learned all the weird things about myself. I like to dance by myself with my cats. I like to make up stories and only share them with trusted people. I like to take pictures. I like to watch the sunset. I will defend my friends no matter how I feel. I will also tell them if I think they’re going off course, regardless of what the backlash might be. And I learned who I can lean on and resolved to be a lean-onable person.
I learned how to defend myself. I got tired of being someone who needed to be worried about when she had a late theatre rehearsal and had to walk home from the train. Which was all the time. Learning how to defend myself lead to me teaching others how to defend themselves. And to fighting internationally. Which led to me seeing Los Angeles, Boston, Quebec, and Paris. Twice. It also led to me having a decades-long career in fitness.
When I met Dean, I wasn’t looking for marriage. I had just released myself from a long, manipulative relationship with a person that I still like as a human. And still think is a better friend than a partner. I had someone tell me to ‘just date’ and who cares what happens. And so I did. Not expecting anything to happen for months. Dean broke all of the ‘rules’ that I had put in place to protect myself.
Never date anyone you’re in a show with. Dean and I were playing twin brother and sister in a play directed by a mutual friend at the time.
Never date anyone younger than you. I knew that Dean was younger based on the ages of the people I knew in the cast, but I didn’t know that he was almost ten years younger until months after we were embroiled. He apparently knew that I was older, probably based on snarks that I made, but thought that I was maybe 26 or 27 rather than 34.)
Never date another actor. I got nothin’ for this one.
I expected Dean to be a fling. I don’t know when I started falling in love with him. I had friends tell me before I knew. I would say that I was just worried about his feelings because he was younger than me and I should make sure to be careful, I was just worried about him. No, they said, you like him.
Once this was confirmed, I let everything loose. I told him that I wasn’t fucking around. (Oh, shit, she said the F-word.) I told him that if he just wanted to date around he needed to find someone else because I wanted to get married and start my life and I wasn’t wasting my time. He said that’s what he wanted. I said I wasn’t interested in having kids so if this was something he wanted, we needed to break up now before we got any more into each other. He said he was fine not having kids. I said that if we weren’t engaged within two years of dating, I was done, because I wasn’t going to be strung along any further. He said that was fine. (Note, the kids thing could also apply to someone who wanted kids.)
I could wax poetic about Dean and how amazing he is and how lucky I am, but that is also, not the point of this entry. (Sorry, babe.)
As I mentioned, I am blessed with friends from all ages, sexes, genders, and walks of life. I have had a more than one female friend in her late twenties/early thirties in a relationship that wasn’t right for her lamenting the breakup. Do not throw judgement at these women. Some of us are still romantic and still want a life partner and yes, some may want kids. And some just want someone to choose them. I remember what that’s like. I remember actually considering proposing to one of my partners myself and then also thinking, ‘but don’t I deserve to be proposed to?’ Now, don’t get me wrong, I know someone usually proposes to someone and it doesn’t always have to be the conventional way, but I … I wanted to be proposed to. And I was considering giving that up, and also being rejected. We’ll move on.
I am thankful that at eighteen, I made the choice that I could do this alone. As ridiculous as it sounds for all of us over eighteen, it was very real for me, and I have fallen back on that moment of courage in the face of all that I knew to be true more often than not.
Because if it’s true at eighteen, how is it not true at twenty-five? At thirty? At forty?
Here’s one thing I know: it’s better to be by yourself, surrounded by friends, than to be in a bad romantic relationship. Especially if you’re at all domestically or financially intertwined. Those things only make it harder to leave.
Here’s a quick list of the best things about getting married ‘late’.
You’re more acutely aware that the wedding is just a day.
This means a couple of things. One of those is that you don’t care about the things that don’t matter, like what’s being served at dinner as long as there’s something that everyone can eat, and more concerned about what the day means.
You’re going to enjoy it more because you realize what it is. A party of all of your favorite people that are here to celebrate YOU and the person you’ve chosen.
You’re not going to blow your savings on a party because you understand that the two of you are going to be living together for a while afterward and will most likely need the money.
You’ll have been to enough of your friends weddings to know what you don’t want.
Take the pictures before the wedding. Your makeup and hair will be fresh and no one will be starving and resentful waiting for you to take pictures before they get to eat.
Always have some kind of snack on the table. We did M&Ms. Especially if you’re having a lot of speeches.
If possible, get folks served before the speeches.
You don’t need to spend a ton of money on your wedding.
I ended up paying for our wedding and it was great. The only thing I went over budget on was the photographer and I don’t regret that for a second. I knew those photos were going to be the one thing that lasted beyond the night.
We had a small wedding. About 65 people. I cared about every single person there and I didn’t get to spend enough time with anyone.
My mother in law made my dress. Out of her dress. Which was her mother’s. I have worn it for several anniversaries. It cost me maybe $12 to buy the pattern, and I got to shop for it with my mother in law and we became closer. This is unique to my good fortune, I understand, but, I’m sure it’s not completely without parallels, so I share.
If I had married any of the people that I met before meeting Dean, I would be much less happy and fulfilled.
I know what I am capable of on my own now. I don’t need anyone. I choose Dean.
The confidence of being able to say no to things at your wedding. Honestly, it’s unparalleled. I made it known that kids weren’t invited. (I know, I’m so terrible, right?) I was paying for every meal. $65. And I wasn’t interested in feeding some kids of people that I hadn’t seen in years who didn’t care about me or what was going on just for propriety’s sake. (My sister’s kids and Dean’s brother’s kids did come.)
When Dean proposed I was 36. I got married when I was 37. I was so happy with how I looked in my dress. Yes, I worked hard to be in great shape, but I also ate cheese and drank wine with my parents the week before the wedding because I went down early to hang out with them. I regret nothing. Yes, there was stress, but I loved every minute of the wedding day. They tell you it goes fast, but I’m here to tell you, it goes twice as fast as normal time. Make that day a good day. Make it the best. If you play your cards right, it’s the only one you’ll ever get. That makes it event better. Those seconds are precious. Don’t waste them on them on what kind of chairs you have.
I knew what I wanted out of life and I was confident that I had someone with me who was sturdy enough to withstand the vicissitudes.
Don’t settle. Being alone is better than being with someone who doesn’t fit. And if it hadn’t worked out, I have no doubt that I would have found someone later. No matter what society tells us, friends, we don’t have an expiration date.