Why I Don't Want to Get Married

I wasn’t the little girl who grew up dreaming of her one-day wedding.  And now, I’m not the mid-20’s gal dreaming of a wedding, or beating myself up because I haven’t had one.

I grew up in Southwestern Arizona.  As far as I can recall, my high school classmates and teammates did not spend their time talking about engagements, weddings, or babies.  Maybe I just didn’t pay enough attention.

I moved to Central Kansas for college.  CULTURE SHOCK, big time.  Life suddenly revolved to a different degree around who was dating whom, who was together or not together.  Then it became, “Who was getting engaged”.

Don’t get me wrong, at some point during my sophomore year of college, I made the decision that I would get married at 22 years of age.  It seemed like what was expected and accepted, and almost demanded.  Like something was wrong with you if this wasn’t how your life unfolded.

Then the guy I pictured this wedding with went and broke my heart.  He was only the second “real” dating relationship I had been in (I “dated” three boys in high school), but I was dead-set on us getting married.  And then it didn’t happen.

Now, hold on, because I think I’m too strong to let one person make my mind up for me about love and relationships, so I don’t just blame this situation.

It was at this point that I began a new phase in my personal growth.  First came the shattering of my heart, spirit, and any and all love for life that I had.  Seriously, borderline manic-suicidal.  

Then the real growth took place.  

I’ve spent the last 5 and a half years rebuilding my broken faith and crushed dreams; mending my broken heart and nurturing my broken spirit.  I’ve forced myself to face the fact that I had the definition of “relationship” completely wrong.  I’ve done hard work of realizing that I had spent 21 years looking for validation from other people, seeking to plant roots inside someone else’s mind and heart, because I didn’t have my own solid roots to derive life from.

I didn’t have a picture of love in the family I grew up in.  My parents were not married.  Actually, they signed a piece of paper on my father’s deathbed in front of a priest.  I was seventeen, and I was asked to interpret the pathetic “ceremony”.  I was overcome by waves of nausea and thrust the little booklet back at the priest.

Over the last seven years in Kansas, I’ve spent time with different families, observing the marriage relationships of the mother and father, learning about how children (my college classmates and teammates) who grew up in a two-parent home create their ideals about life and marriage.

I wouldn’t say I blame the pain or loss of my upbringing for any anger or resentment I have towards marriage.  Rather, I think I’m too scared to mess it up.  I also think I’ve become too independent and secure in myself and happy with my own company to want to even think about sharing my every day with someone.  I’ve reached the point where I can have dreams for myself and goals for myself, and plans for my own future, without including a husband.  

I can see how having someone to share everyday moments with might be nice, but I no longer need it to complete me.  

Yes, I’m a Christian, and I can honestly say that I do not feel “God calling me to marriage” or “God telling me to be a mother” or “God having plans for me to have a common ministry with someone”.  

I just don’t feel that.

I don’t want to get married.  I don’t know when that will change.  I’m okay with it, if it never changes.  

I want to encourage others out there feeling pressure from society--to get married, to date, to have sex, to have a partner, someone by your side at all times---don’t fall for it.  Independent life is pretty awesome.

(For those wondering, I have been in a committed, heterosexual relationship for 4 and a half years--no we don't live together. We live in different towns, actually.)