The Case for Waiting

My college friends are pretty much divided into two camps: Those who stayed with the guys they dated in undergrad, and those who didn't. Everyone's relationship is different and I'm certainly not going to make some sweeping generalization about either group. But as someone who won't be ending up with her college boyfriend, as well as someone who used to be so sure she would, I feel like I'm in a somewhat interesting position. And now I shall comment upon it.

For a long time marriage itself was the endpoint for me, when I would know that my life was settled, and marriage was where my ex and I were headed. When we broke up, my biggest fear was never finding someone, which is probably why I clung to a new guy soon after our relationship ended, even when this guy became pretty much indifferent toward me, worried I would end up alone.

A college friend of mine, who is in the same camp as I am, in that we're no longer dating our college boyfriends, has this theory: I think that the biggest problem afflicting women is not a nonexistence of good men, but a nonexistence of patience and/or confidence that they can--and should--hold out for what they deserve.

In a 2008 Atlantic Monthly entitled "The Case for Settling" writer Lori Gottlieb advocates staying with and marrying Mr. Right-Now instead of hoping for a Mr. Right. The whole concept that there is a Mr. Right promotes fervent searching and panic, and the word right in itself is problematic. But the idea that someone is better than no one, that anybody is better than nobody, is exactly the kind of thinking that made me stay with my ex--someone who did not meet the criteria of what I deserve. Settling, because you think you should be with a certain person, isn't fair to either person in the relationship. In my case, my ex and I were too young to know what we wanted (or needed) in a partner and I truly believe we both would have ended up regretful and unhappy had we stayed together.

On Death Cab's most recent album there's a song called "Cath" which I think describes a case against settling. There's a line that goes: As the flashbulbs burst she holds a smile, like someone would hold a crying child. Not only is the metaphor freakin' amazing, but I've been that girl. Settling, to me, means forced laughter, suppressed discomfort, and, above all, a subscription to the idea that once you've spent a number of years with another person, you should simply continue doing so.

But it's the second verse of the song that kills me: It seems that you live in someone else's dream. In a hand-me-down wedding dress, the things that could have been are repressed. You said your vows and you closed the door on so many men who would have loved you more. I just can't help but think how that could have been me.

It wasn't until I actually broke up with my boyfriend, and dated that next dude (who swiftly went from pretty-much-indifferent to I-think-we-shouldn't-talk-ever-again) that I realized I would be just fine on my own. Oddly, once I became perfectly happy alone and had stopped caring whether or not I had boyfriend, I found someone who met the criteria I established post-pretty-much-indifferent dude. (One of these criteria being that the next guy I dated couldn't be indifferent about me. Seems obvious to most I'm sure, but apparently I'm capable of being a complete idiot.)

So, I guess the moral of the story is that is doesn't matter what camp you belong to--the gals still with their college sweethearts or the ones who aren't. For me it was just a matter of being honest with myself. And having hope. And, perhaps most of all, as my college friend noted, having patience.