To Marry: The Journey From Never To Forever

To Marry: The Journey

From Never To Forever

by Jon Anglar

I had vowed to never marry.  I wasn’t interested in marriage and had never been.  I watched my parents suffer through a miserable marriage until they couldn’t take it anymore.  For me, women were toys.  When I felt like it, I played with one.  But only until I got bored.

My passion for romance had dissipated some years before when my college sweetheart broke off our engagement because she wasn’t ready “to be tied down,” and later married my football coach.

Since then, all the women I met were kept on the various shelves of my moods and were called upon based on the inclination of the day.  If I only wanted sex, I’d call Sheila.  If I wanted sex and a fun evening, I’d call Joanne.  And if I just wanted some stimulating conversation, I would call Corinne. The names have been changed, of course.

Every married friend I had with one exception was struggling to overcome his decision, while I basked in the luxury of freedom, and felt superior to them all.

When January began last year, I was seeing four women, and I spent a lot of time dodging phone calls by pretending to be unavailable and working.

In February, I bought two boxes of candy and one bracelet for Valentine’s Day.  One woman, who happened to be the prettiest, had tired of my elusiveness and had gone her merry way.  The other three consisted of two who had resigned themselves to second place and one who commanded first place.  Her attitude was: if she couldn’t be first, she wouldn’t play.  Thus, she got the gold bracelet and dinner to boot, because the “romance” game was no fun without her.

When April rolled around, I was back up to four.  (My magnet factor rose after I began lifting weights) and I was dizzy from all the running.

In June, while contemplating a career move, I suddenly felt satiated with all the “plush” in my life and recognized the lack of substance.  I knew five women on an intimate level, but I didn’t have one whom I could really share my heart with.

Then it happened.  In July, I met Dana and my whole perspective on women changed.  She was totally different from any woman I’d known before.  She was the embodiment of contrasts, and I enjoyed every aspect of her.  At last, it seemed I had found someone I could expose my soul to.

She was principled, yet flexible, and she possessed a sense of humor that kept me amused.  She was not as pretty as those before her, but her femininity had a magnetism that heretofore had been unmatched.  A woman of more beauty usually held her kind of self-confidence, but I was drawn to her freedom to be herself.

On our first date, she explained candidly that being in love was a lifelong dream, but that she was extremely cautious when it came to giving her heart away.

I had always avoided “serious” women, but I was enchanted.  She was sincere and unwilling to compromise her need for acceptance, and for the first time, I was mesmerized and unashamed of showing it.   The next four months were magic and I fell in love, for the second time in my life.

By September, I was down to two women, Dana and the forerunner of the original four.  But when I unexpectedly proposed marriage a week before Thanksgiving, I knew I had finally come to the end of my playing days, when I informed Girl #1, that I was marrying Girl #2.

The result was chaotic.  But in the end, I became a monogamous man with a life agenda that included sharing the total me with another human being. I have since been made better by the decision, as I look forward to my wedding day in November.