Something Borrowed, and Baby Blues

A new trend has got me a'thinkin.

I know a woman who was out for dinner, and over a couple of drinks was asked for her hand in marriage, between a burp, and a request for a drink refill from a nearby server. How about being asked whilst you scramble to find your shoes before a Christmas gathering? Maybe, while being chased around a pick-up on the parking lot of the place you just attended a depressing Rememberance Day service? Maybe in a sauna? Hmm.

Where has the romance gone? What happened to candlelit dinners, while the violinist plays your song, and you look only to find a diamond ring on the bottom of your champagne? What happened to waiting until the fireworks shoot at the Canada Day celebration? Finding a suit and top hat and going for a late-night stroll through the park beneath the stars on a horsedrawn carriage? Where on earth has chivalry gone? It certainly is not beneath my sofa, or outside my apartment door, it has vanished into thin air. Been sent out to sea by some feminist activist and shot down by a neighbouring country that only believes in grunting and farting your way into someone's heart.

My next question is this: what on earth is the rush? Everyone turns eighteen, decides that now is the time to find someone they can bear to be around, date them for four months, do the things only married couples ought, and then figure that "Hmm, what else is there? Heck, let's tie the knot!" I'm so absolutely baffled by this!

I'm moderately sure that a big part of the rush is the pressure of sex, that can't be denied. But the funny thing is, is that: I'm pretty sure nobody waits anymore. I've drawn this conclusion from my own personal experience in the area. When I tell people here in the city that I've waited, through thick and thin, temptation or naught, I have kept it in my pants! Every time I present this idea to them, I am always met with gaping jaws, bulging eyes, and something resembling the sound of Super Mario jumping. This concept is absolutely new and crazy out here! After they've regained their composure, they tell me, "Surely, you must have only started dating, then." When I tell them it's been over three years, I'm met with the same astonishment. It's remarkable, it's so insanely different than anything I've ever experienced in a small town.

I remember going to a youth conference in Saskatchewan once, at a Christian University. The attendants were given the oppportunity to stay in dorms with the students who were involved, which was fine, because these were all Christian students and thus, you were in safe hands. I was staying with a young girl, very nice, a little forward, but nice. I was sitting at the desk in her room when I found a circlet of birth control pills. What a confusing moment for a struggling 13-year-old Christian girl. I can remember all of the questions running through my mind; why would she have these if she isn't having sex? Why would she have sex if she was a Christian? Why is she a Christian if she doesn't want to follow all of it? Does it work that way? Needless to say I got my first example of a halfway Christian that day, and realized that I was probably going to run into an awful lot of these from now on. And it's true, I have.

So if everyone is doing it, then why get married? Is it so you don't have to lie that you aren't doing it anymore? How can you even know who you are until you've lived on your own? Suddenly you're expected to live on your own while discovering a new marriage, and new marriage obstacles, all the while struggling with the new concept of grocery shopping, shrinking all of your once-valuable clothes, paying rent a day or two late while mumbling, "We were out of town, we couldn't get it here any sooner..." I can't possibly imagine.

I moved out on my own, and it's absolutely been the most difficult thing I have ever done. It's like that grade 11 year when you finally discover that you don't really care what other people think, excluding your group of five whom you sit by the lockers with every other day during your math spare. Do you remember that year? That year you sort of get a taste of who you are, and who you were meant to be, and instead of fighting it you start embracing it. Eccentuating it. Wearing those pants that make your butt look good, wearing that goofy side-turned hat because, heck, yer' the artsy one! Looking into Universities that might perfect your personality, and introducing yourself as "I'm Pete, I'm into computers." and that's all that matters.

That's what this past year has definitely been for me, but on such a grown up level. I'm learning how to make friends that may not be my exact age, who may not have known me when my shorts fell down on the playground in Grade 2, who may not even have the same culture or opinions as me. I'm learning how to sustain myself, and what's more! A pet! I'm slowly trying to learn how to make time for things I love, because when a teacher isn't asking you to do it, it's pretty freakin' hard!

And I've met me. For the first time.

Can you imagine being married before meeting yourself? I was eighteen once, and I remember being stupid. I remember thinking, "Like, omigod! I totally think he'll propose for my nineteenth birthday! Omigod! Maybe we'll be married by June, and like, have a little family!" I was so, so, stupid! I don't even think we'd still be together if we'd gotten married then. We've had fights since that really depended on us knowing we had a choice to stick together. If we'd have felt forced to stay together by some binding agreement, that would've been something we were not even close to being old enough to overcome. It would've sewn seeds of bitterness and resentment toward this other person for trapping you in something, keeping you from yourself because you're so busy taking care of them.

I just praise God for the one I ended up with. It's completely thanks to him that we aren't married now. If it were up to me, my stupid little self would have asked him, and that would be it. And we'd be miserable, stuck as kids together, trying to figure out this crazy life thing, together, but apart. But he always said, "Wait. What's the rush?" And I thank him every day. He gave me the gift of myself, of mutual respect, of absolute trust, and independance. What a gift! And each day that we've been dating this past three-plus years, I have enjoyed every minute. No skanky stuff, just pure stuff. No guilt, no mess, no lies, just communication and laughter, and absolute and complete surrender to each other and to God.

So what's the rush? Slow it down, kids!
Y'all got a lot of growing up to do.
Trust me.