Three months ago, I got married. Sometimes I don’t believe that phrase: “I got married.” At the same time, it doesn’t feel weird to have someone else in my (our) apartment. I like cooking for more than one person, and I have a permanent date to events and functions. Even my signature isn’t all that different. I joke that I just turned my Z around to an S, and can still get away with an illegible scribble for the rest.
I read Love & Responsibility right after we got engaged. It’s a hard read partially for its density, but mostly because it goes against against everything society pushes. It teaches that sex is sacred; men and women have separate and distinct identities; fertility is a gift, not a punishment. Logically, I agree with all this. Practically, it’s hard to unlearn those warped societal teachings.
It’s been argued we should’ve moved in together before the wedding, and that it’s important to ensure “sexual compatibility.” This makes no sense. Cohabitation is a big disruption, in both routine and mental state. I’ve heard it said that living together, married or not, is one big, loud announcement of “We’re having sex!” Big announcements are not my style, but more than that, society has forgotten that sex is a sacred act.
Sex says a lot of things, more than even complete exposure and vulnerability. It’s a literal creation of one unit, in the coming together of two. It’s a physical expression of a verbal vow: to have and to hold, ’til death do us part. It’s an acknowledgement of readiness to parenthood. Why has it become not only acceptable, but encouraged, outside of marriage? It’s a denial of responsibility. There are other expressions of love if you want to come together with your partner. Cohabitation and premarital sex cheapen the experience, and there’s no motivation to commit or, as the old phrase goes, “make her an honest woman” (or man, as the case may be).
By choosing another person one chooses in him, in a sense, another “I,” as though one were choosing oneself in the other and the other in oneself. —Love and Responsibility
The oneness of two was God’s intention from the beginning: “a man leaves his father and his mother and cleaves to his wife, and they become one flesh.” (Genesis 2:24) This isn’t just a partnership. I often grapple with the difference between “friendship” and “romance.” You can have strong feelings for friends, and often mistake that platonic love for romantic. So how do you distinguish? If you look at how we’ve treated romance, this confusion isn’t that surprising. Cohabitation and hook-up culture have blurred the lines. When you can get in bed with anyone you want, whenever you want, who has any use for love?
Incompatibility in marriage is something more than simply physical incompatibility, and certainly cannot be tested in advance by pre-marital intercourse. Married couple who later consider themselves incompatible very often have at the beginning a period of perfect sexual intercourse. It turns out that the breakup occurs for another reason.
One night in the first week, after dinner, we both realized the gravity of our vows. I quietly went upstairs for my nightly routine, relieved to have a moment alone. We thought we were prepared: we’d read the books and taken the courses. We had our premarital counseling. But when it came time to be married, we freaked out. We weren’t kids playing house; we had a home. I once had a friend whose live-in boyfriend broke up with her. I watched as she packed her belongings, trying to be there when he wasn’t home. It was embarrassing. How can you commit like that without commitment? I’m not saying marriages never end, but divorce is less likely than other romantic fallouts. Do people understand what it means to move in together, to make a public announcement of intimacy? Maybe they do, or maybe we’ve stopped caring about morality and chastity.
We did it the right way. You don’t need a trial period or compatibility test when love is there. You’re already compatible by the time you’re ready to move in together and share a bed. It’s called “marriage.” It’s certainly not easy, but that’s part of the growing experience. It’s not just living in the same apartment. It’s a physical and spiritual oneness, coming together to live one life, no longer two.
