Fidelity | On Breaking Engagements

I’ve been engaged twice, basically. Technically once, with a ring and a dress, but basically twice, and I didn’t marry either one of those men. I don’t say that to brag or flaunt my heart-breaking; I say it because it’s good. And that is clear now.

Some of you may actually know and love the men I write about. I love them too. They are good men, and this isn’t actually about them. This is and was about me. I was not supposed to marry them. Not in a weird, mystical, “I was made for one specific person in this whole wide world” sort of way; I don’t believe in that. But marrying them would not have been in the best interest of them or me.

The first time I was engaged, I was very young — 21. In my opinion (now), that is too young to be deciding who you will spend the rest of your life with. It works out for a lot of people. It didn’t work out for me. I made a decision wise beyond my years, and I walked away—with plenty of pain, depression, and anger to follow—from a relationship that wasn’t healthy, sweet, or anywhere near as good as either of us deserved. And I am so thankful I did.

The next (almost) engagement was when I was much older. Old enough to know what I thought marriage should be and how I wanted to be treated. Still immature in a lot of ways, but again, I had the sense—maybe the knowledge deep in my soul—that I shouldn’t do this. I am now so  thankful and relieved that I did not promise my remaining years and life to this wonderful man, because although he had many fine qualities, together we weren’t ideal.

Why am I delving into my somewhat controversial relationship history? Over the past 10 years, I have been critiqued many times on my relationship choices. Some have been upset at my fickleness. However, if they knew the turmoil I went through making these difficult decisions and the hurt I brought on myself, they might not call it careless. And looking at my life now, they would likely agree that I was right. It’s not just my life—It’s his, too, and I guarantee you that both men would thank me and say they are profoundly grateful for the women they are married to. And they're not me. And that’s ok—we all made it through.

The dress was sold, the rings bought back, explanations were made, and eventually, hearts were mended.

I struggle when I listen to women talking about relationships like they don’t have any say in them. Waiting and hoping for your guy to ask you marry him, unhappy with how you’re treated but scared this might be your “last shot.” You’re in love (maybe madly), but the other side of that can often be very dark and lonely.

There is no reason—not one—that you should marry him if you know that it’s not right. Or if you think it’s not right. Or if you suspect it’s not right…. I didn’t end up marrying until I was one week shy of 32. I got all the standard pressure about my age, my “ticking baby clock,” all of it! And I chose not to succumb to that ridiculous, oppressive way of thinking. I waited—not for the “right one to come along”—but for something good, mature, deep, caring, and invested.

I waited until I was in a relationship with someone whom I wanted to marry more than I wanted my singleness—and that was quite a trade off. Marriage isn’t necessarily the next step or even on the staircase of many women’s lives. Believing it is and pressuring yourself to “find someone” or trying to be “so lost in God that a man has to seek Him to find you” all puts the end goal of your life in a man—a broken, human man. And it’s only going to let you down. Every single time.

So, marriage is great and beautiful, and I believe in it way more than I did a year ago (husband sighs in relief), but it’s not the end. It’s not the culmination of a life well lived. It’s a wonderful part of many people’s lives, a horrible part of many people’s lives, and not a part at all of many others’.

When I taught high school, I would always encourage my kids to wait, to grow up, live a little, think for themselves, and make solid decisions, not decisions based on fear, money, invitations sent, or someone else’s heart. Those aren’t noble things. In the end, you’re saving his heart as well as your own.