It was practically an annual conversation—especially as we rounded the corner on age 30 and all the other ages in our 14 years together—and I was usually the instigator.
Tell me again why you don’t want to get married?
Every time, A. would run through his punch list: Tax laws. Divorce rates. Inequality. Societal pressure. The wedding industrial complex. I heard him—and he made many logical points. But I hated the predictability of his recitation. I hated its lack of emotion.
When he’d turn the question around on me, I fumbled to put my emotions into words. I just did. I knew it in my heart. I felt it in my gut. But I couldn’t craft an explanation. I simply wanted to entwine my life and my name with the most special person I could ever know. Even harder to articulate was that this person was not him.
When I was 4 or 5 years old, I sent multiple letters to Miss Mary Ann on Romper Room, asking if she could see me through her magic mirror. When I finally heard her say my name on the TV, it lit me up inside and out. I’d been seen—and her facial expression filled my heart with all the convincing I needed. She knew I was there.
That’s how I want to feel in marriage. I want to be seen. I want to be chosen. I want to know that the qualities that make me who I am are not only appealing to another person, but they are sought after. And as much as I want to feel this way, I want to make another person feel the same way.
I am! I do!
In Dana, I’ve found my own magic mirror. When my husband looks at me, I feel seen. Just as clearly—and with all of my senses—I see him, too. And in seeing him, I can see myself for what I truly am.
It has taken me some time—including two years of marriage—to articulate this why. Being able to finally put words to it validates what I’ve believed all along: listen to your heart.
Thank you, Jenna Gallo, for capturing this magical moment!
