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I spent two years after college single, working in Washington
D.C. and commuting an hour each way to and from work.
Listening to the radio was the most obvious way to pass the
time. Usually I switched back and forth between NPR and
Christian talk radio: wanting to be up on the news of the day,
but not wanting to be overwhelmed since most of it was
negative. I'll never forget the morning I flipped to the Christian
station to hear the hostess introducing her guests -- all single.
They were talking about strategies for dating. This ought to
be good. I thought. I'll take all the help I can get.
One guest in particular -- a man -- stood out. Hmm, I
wonder how one goes about meeting such a guy, I mused.
He was talking about taking a woman to dinner. Not afraid to
ask a woman out. Sounds more bold than most of the guys I
know. I turned the radio up a little.
He went on with his story. "I was having dinner with this woman
and halfway through the meal, she started talking about
marriage." Yeah, way to go, I thought. I'd love to
have the opportunity and the boldness to be so straightforward
about my dreams, too.
He went on, "I mean, all I wanted was a plate of spaghetti."
I felt chastened.
Note to self. Don't talk marriage with potential mates.
This advice wasn't new, just unexpected. For years Cosmo and
other women's magazines had been telling young women to
never broach the subject of marriage with their man lest they
scare him away. But to hear it from a mainstream Christian
program was a bit of a shock. I know Ecclesiastes says there's a
time to speak and a time to be silent, but roping a topic as
important as marriage off limits seemed a little extreme.
If it was faux pas to broach marriage during a date --
the social convention that was once the prelude to matrimony --
when were you allowed to admit a hope for a family of
one's own?
Breaking New Ground
Since I didn't date during my time in D.C., I forgot about his
advice. It wasn't until a few years later that his words, and
everything else I'd heard and read about dating, came into play. I
was best friends with a guy named Steve. We met in our
graduate program and quickly found we had a lot in common.
We went to movies together, read the same books and even
started an online webzine for our school. To our friends, it
looked like we were dating. The problem was, we weren't. It was
a problem because I was falling for him; but also because the
way things appeared, no other guys would ask me out.
As much as I loved being with Steve, I wanted more than hours
and hours of hanging out with him. I wanted to be married. I
hoped that was what God was calling me to and didn't want to
waste my most marriageable years with a guy who saw me as
"just a friend."
All that dating advice I'd heard and read was little help. I had to
break new ground.
Though I didn't take the lead, I did ask Steve to. Knowing I could
trust our friendship to absorb a little shock, I asked him what his
intentions were. I guess in another day and age, my dad would
have asked him that question (and considering my dad would
have asked it a lot sooner in the process, maybe the father's
involvement wasn't such a bad convention after all). But I didn't
live at home -- I hadn't for eight years. I didn't even live in the
same state with my parents anymore.
Thankfully, Steve accepted my challenge to be honest about our
relationship and had the courage to make it official. Six months
after that conversation he asked me to be his wife. If I'd done
what the books suggest -- enjoy the friendship, follow his lead,
lower my expectations, avoid the M-word -- we'd probably still
be just friends.
Permission to Run
Thirteen years after hearing that radio interview, such advice
persists. "Christians seem to approach dating so seriously it's
immobilizing," said one editor for Today's Christian
Woman in a recent interview. "Women especially seem to be
contemplating marriage on the first date -- men sense this and
run for the hills."
Still trends among singles -- later first marriages, pre-marital
sexual activity that mirrors the un-churched, the belief that
marriage is something worth doing someday -- suggest
this advice is as unreliable as ever.
Now I'll admit there are some things you shouldn't ask a guy
during those first few hours of conversation. "What color tuxedo
do you prefer?" and "How do you feel about changing diapers?"
are best reserved for later, like when you have a diamond on
your finger. That said, however, there's something troubling
about telling women they shouldn't even be "contemplating
marriage" on the first date. Why not? What's the purpose of
dating, after all? If, as has traditionally been the case, dating is
for finding a mate, then shouldn't the possibility of marriage at
least be forefront in your mind, if not on your tongue?
Thanks to advice like that from the radio guest, and
observations like the one from the Today's Christian
Woman editor, we've gone from noticing how marriage talk
affects some men to a universal expectation that it
petrifies them all. And in that expectation lies the
permission men need to run.
Some of my single female friends have been dating seemingly
great guys to no intentional end. Concerned than any marriage
talk is premature and might scare their man away, they settle for
relationships marked by low expectations, recreational affection
(if not more) and little to no momentum.
In our anti-marriage culture, it's more important than ever to be
intentional about who you date and what the goal of dating is,
and not settle for a stalled buddy relationship. Talking marriage
is essential.
Let the Conversation Begin
It's odd I'd even remember that broadcast -- and that guest's
comment -- after all these years. I'm not sure why, but what he
said was bugging me the other day. I was telling my husband
about it and after I repeated the line, "All I wanted was a plate of
spaghetti!" he responded, without missing a beat, "so why didn't
he just take his mother to dinner?"
That's it. That's what was bothering me; what I couldn't put my
finger on. That guy wasn't being honest. He asked a single,
available, no doubt attractive woman to dinner, then blamed her
for treating it like a date. He followed all the conventions that
led her to believe it had the promise of something romantic, but
when she started to follow his lead, he changed the dance.
I also felt defensive for that poor woman. There she was, having
accepted an invitation to spend an evening with this man, quite
possibly struggling to make conversation while he focused on
his pasta. If she'd said she hoped to be a lawyer or a Peace
Corps engineer or a writer, he'd no doubt have applauded. But
because she expressed a hope to be wife and mother, he was
offended.
Getting married is part of growing up. It's a biblical
responsibility we're asked to take on -- a calling. Talking about
it is just the beginning. If you're with a man who's scared away
by the mere mention of marriage, it's time to take your
conversation elsewhere.
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