The Scared Skeptic

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of EAT, PRAY, LOVE (Oprah sanctioned and soon to be a movie starring Julia Roberts) has a new book due out called COMMITTED: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage. As a bonafide Single, this kind of irritated me, and I'll tell you why: Because Gilbert was married. She is a divorcee. In fact, a few people who have read EAT, PRAY, LOVE have voiced dismay at how cavalierly she threw off her marriage at the opening of that book and went on a journey of self-discovery that ended with her in the arms of another man (portrayed by Javier Bardem in the film). Not to give anything away -- that isn't in any book review -- COMMITTED is about how Gilbert decides to give marriage another go despite the fact that she equated marriage to a jail term. In EPL, Gilbert sermonized that religion got a little overly definitive about the terms of marriage. This does not sound skeptical to me. This sounds like disillusionment, like a person who didn't like the definition of marriage. Who, perhaps, believes in the power of Romantic Love, but found it difficult to sustain in a man-made institution. And despite that she might still believe in Romantic Love and continues to disagree with the Western definition of marriage, she got married again anyway. (Actually, she does it to secure a visa for her Brazilian lover, which sounds a lot more pragmatic and ethically questionable, but I digress). My point here is that the subtitle is provocative, but misleading. She doesn't make peace with the establishment of marriage as much as she makes a practical decision to circumvent the law, as the only way to continue conjugal visits with her preferred sexual partner was to marry him. COMMITTED is the exploration of different kinds of marriage from different cultures around the world. In other words, she's rationalizing and on the look out for the definition that best suits her predicament. (Which, if you think about it, if you opened up the definition of marriage, more people might go down the aisle.)

Right before Thanksgiving, I was offered a freelance writing assignment to write a book for the Valentine's Day market. As I've written three books for that hallowed holiday, the idea left me cold and annoyed. I don't think I've ever celebrated Valentine's Day and yet my romantic nature makes me a go-to gal for Valentine's drivel. But, whatever. I passed on the project and volunteered the name of another writer friend of mine who is currently between gigs and was looking to break into the gift book market. The publisher contacted this friend, and she IMed me this morning that she took it. As this friend has recently broken up with a boyfriend, I didn't know if she was in the right frame of mind for the assignment, but she told me that she's looking forward with hope. To which I say, "good for you," with skepticism in my heart. Because, dear reader, I am a skeptic against marriage.

Quite frankly, I think my generation -- the children of the so-called Me Generation -- are the real skeptics here. Mostly because our bohemian progenitors totally bought into the ideology that "if it's good for me, it's good for the kid." Which I will admit is probably correct if, say, Daddy beats Mommy or Mommy cooks meth in the spaghetti pot. But I think there's a lot of people who get married because they believe in Disney's version of love and then get jaded and angry that marriage is a ton of work and requires a level of commitment that sometimes supersedes your own personal needs. They look to marriage to fill that void inside themselves and if their partner is not up to filling the void then it's OK to look outside the marriage to figure it out. Whether that's another lover or a sojourn to Italy, India, and Bali, then you know, it's all good because it's good for me. To which I say, "No." Marriage comes with a definition and, yes, it comes from the church, and if you're not ready for that, don't do it.

As far as this Singleton can tell, marriage is a lot of work. It requires subverting your anger, frustration, and annoyance. It is constant compromise. It's a lot of bickering, negotiating, managing, and re-negotiating. It's finding space for yourself while trying to stay present enough so that your partner doesn't feel ignored. Its trying to find a perfect balance between needs and wants. Its about getting up in the morning and going through the routine no matter how boring it gets, hoping for those little moments of grace. I mean, my god, who wants to sign up for that?

The hope is, of course, that you will have a lifetime companion. Someone to witness your life with you. Someone you can go to the Great Wall of China with and say, "Look at that." Or ask, "Where was that little restaurant with the great gyros?" Life is lonely. A spouse makes it less lonely. And I get that. In fact, I want that. But my fear is that I won't be able to sustain it. I'm a freak, people! And because I fully acknowledge that I'm a whack-job, I used to think, for the longest time, that I had to find the perfect man to marry. Because only the perfect man would be able to put up with my quirks and foibles. And I mean that. Who is the perfect man? Well, I don't know, I haven't met him, but I certainly knew exactly what he was like. He had to be funny, of course, but not crude or raunchy or cruel. I prefer witty, word puns, and a certain dryness to humor. He had to be relaxed and comfortable in his own skin and place in the world. My need to control everything would be amusing to him, but at the same time a non-issue as he didn't care for the details himself. He couldn't have an ego or be a blowhard, but was still willing to defend me and my honor if need arose. He'd be ambitious, but not obsessed. A healthy sense of balance between work and family. He'd make money, but be completely mindless about it. My happiness was imperative to him. Generous, without a stingy bone in his body, yet not a spendthrift. He liked to travel, but also enjoyed an occasional "stay-cation." Loyal, ethical, committed, with a certain nobleness to his character. Smart and clever. A little absent-minded about the daily stuff, but remembered important occasions like my birthday and the place where we first kissed. I preferred he be from New England...and to look like Matt Damon. In fact, Matt Damon would do nicely as long as he fit all the other criteria, too. My perfect man was, for all intent and purpose, a Disney prince with a bland, inoffensive personality. And completely a figment of my imagination.

People are messy. They come with all sorts of pre-programmed nuttiness. And depending on their childhood, they come with a ton of emotional/mental baggage. The bright ones are slightly depressed. The dim ones can't seem to get out of their own way. By the time one hits thirty, hearts have been so brutally broken that defenses are up to orange alert. These ideal partners we conjure become the standard we set to reduce risk. And some of us (among which I count myself) specify so acutely as to what we need to have in order to settle down, we rule out our entire species. Which makes marriage a non-issue. Can't get married if you can't find the right person. And since the right person doesn't exist, well, then I don't have to worry about maintaining a marriage. And then I don't have to compromise or subvert my own desires. *Phew!*

If you want to talk about philosophical definitions of the word "skeptic," I'm sure the sub-title to Gilbert's book is correct. However, I think it would have been more appropriate to have chosen something like, "A Disillusioned Divorcee Does it Again." But that might be a recognition that Gilbert totally negated the thesis of her first book with this second. With that said, however, I would love to read a book about a scared, skeptical Singleton who actually does make peace with the standing definition of marriage. And succeeds.