The priss and the scientist.

I’m balanced precariously on the precipice of  so much change. A slight shift in my balance will change everything, send me spiraling. I’m six months into something sure to consume me if I let it. Simply and simultaneously, everything is on the line and everything is on hold.

Six months ago, I think I met whom I want to marry, but I don’t trust myself. Do I only want to marry him because he’s the first guy I met since realizing I want to get married? A super trippy idea, and not a terribly romantic one. How much is wanting to get married coloring my experience with John? I think in order to experience this more genuinely, I need to take marriage completely out of the equation, pretend we’re 20 and 24, instead of 26 and 30.

Must not marry by default. Must not marry by default.

But at the same time, should I be investing this much of myself in something that isn’t likely to end in marriage? I do feel a little too old for that. I don’t want to end up 30 years old with another failed relationship under my belt wondering where the hell the time went.

When I close my eyes and think of John, what do I see? I mean what do I really see?

Immediately, I see him smiling. I see his dimples, and his funny teeth, and the perfect slope of his nose. I see his mop of brown hair liberally streaked with grey. I see his neat fingernails and his gentle hands, and the way our fingers look intertwined. And most of all, I see us happy, and I end up smiling a ridiculous smile.

I see myself introducing him as my husband. I see us in our Victorian, New England home with the round room. I see a dog that I hate but he loves. I see it strewn about with gadgets, puzzles, fake nails, Mental Floss magazines, heels, tech manuals, and the rest of the mish-mosh you’d expect from the marriage of a priss to a scientist.

I see us successful, comfortable, and happy. I see us getting old, and being okay with that, even laughing about it. I see true fidelity, warmth, and steadfast love. Quiet, profound Corinthians love that is not proud, that does  not boast, that is kind and does not envy.

The trouble isn’t all that; it’s looking around now and seeing that I’m kind of  lonely, happy when I’m with him, often twiddling my thumbs when I am not, wondering if we’ll ever get to all that good stuff. Knowing he doesn’t look much toward the future, content to exist day by day, what will make him look forward? Another month? Another twelve? Ever?

Does he regret telling me he loves me? When will I ever hear it again without saying it first? Will he surprise me with a ring like he did with “I love you”?

I really hope so. I just don’t want to have to wait around forever. I want it to still be exciting. I want to be caught off-guard. I want it to be a little too soon — still slightly irrational. I want it to make me nervous and to feel my stomach flip when we take the plunge.

How, then, do you take marriage out of the equation when you absolutely want it to be its answer?

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