Tag Archives: getting engaged

I Put a Ring on It in a City of Single Ladies

I moved to Los Angeles about four years ago. In all that time, LA has proved to be a lot of things. Yes, there are a million blonde white girls who look exactly like me (and it seems like they snapped up all the agents already). Yes, there are images of fitness perfection everywhere and people really love the word “cleanse.” Yes, there’s no such thing as winter, to my great dismay. But most of all, people here care about their careers more than any other city I’ve lived in.

Granted, I haven’t lived very many places, and I have no reason to be surprised. Working in entertainment in LA takes a great deal of focus and drive. But I had no idea the level of scrutiny my own life choices would be subject to.

I had long ago decided that the LA lifestyle wasn’t something I would subscribe to completely. I moved down there with a grain of salt and an escape plan in mind. I wasn’t planning on scrabbling for infomercials or paying hundreds of dollars for “Agent-Meet Workshops”; really, my personal goals were to gain experience doing projects I was interested in and expanding my acting horizons. Because of this level of detachment, I hadn’t thought that the attitude of Los Angeles toward marriage would be any different than that of the rest of the country, where 20-something-year-old women are subject to the questions of their older counterparts: “Who are you dating? When will you settle down? When will you be married?” So, when I became engaged at 23 and set the wedding date for after I turned 25, I didn’t consider it unusual at all and was excited to wear a beautiful ring that would scream the happy news for me without me even having to open my mouth.

But man, the reactions I got! People acted as if I had decided to become a nun. Or join a cult. The ring on my finger became an instant magnet for attention, and not all of it was good.

Let me clarify: those who have known me for a while, and who know my fiancé, or are at least good enough friends with me that they feel as if they know him, didn’t have any comments to offer except “I’m so happy for you! It was only a matter of time!” Instead, it’s those who met me more recently, and who noticed the ring, who had less positive things to say. Things like, “Wait….you’re getting married? How old are you? Oh my god, you’re a baby! How do you even know what you want when you’re so young? What about your career? Do you want children right away? Wait…you don’t want to have children right away?!? Why get married so soon then? What about your career? Why are you settling down? What about your career? What’s the rush? For the love of GOD, what about your CAREER?!? THINK ABOUT YOUR CAREER, WOMAN!”

I was completely unprepared for this onslaught of questions. I got them from new coworkers, new acquaintances, and even had other comedians ask me these questions while I was working… a completely unsolicited barrage of opinions and judgment. I tried not to fall in the trap of explaining my life choices to a stranger, but the more I was exposed to it, the harder it got to not be defensive.

The fact was, I had never really thought about what a marriage would do to my career because I never felt the need to weigh “career vs. relationship.” I wasn’t planning on having children for at least five years. I wasn’t planning on being a stay-at-home wife. My fiancé is an encouraging and supportive partner. I had been in a relationship with this man for six years and was still able to pursue a career. Our relationship, and my love for him, has in no way been a detriment to that end. I’ll admit that if there was no one in my life, I would have been more engrossed in my job, but the situation I was in was what I had been looking for all along: a balance in my life, with love, passions, art, family, and career.

The thing that drove me over the edge was that other women were having the exact opposite problem that I was having. Women who were single, whether to concentrate on their jobs or simply because they hadn’t found the right person yet, were being examined and questioned for not doing the exact thing that I was about to do. Ladies just couldn’t win! I was also baffled that—given that there are so many different family structures and relationship choices in this modern age—there is anybody left to be surprised or seemingly personally offended by my somewhat conventional life choices.

Later, I discovered that one of my coworkers who questioned me so relentlessly was actually unsatisfied with her own relationship status. It made me realize that there’s usually more under the surface when people present their judgment, but I still don’t excuse those people. To me, if someone tells you about their relationship or family status, whether it’s “married with children,” “single mother/father,” “dating around (or sleeping around),” “gay,” “bi,” “straight,” or “polyamorous,” it is insufferably rude to respond with anything other than: “Oh, that’s cool.”

The plus side of all of this is that I have learned to gain some perspective on the whole concept of judgment. I realized that no matter what your choices, no matter how “normal” they might seem, someone somewhere is going to judge you for it. I’ve learned to not give a shit. I’ve resolved to become less judgmental myself. If someone goes on about something that someone else is doing and how “weird” it is, I just shrug my shoulders and say, “Well, if it works for them and it’s not hurting anybody…” Even if I’m uncomfortable with something, it doesn’t give me a pass to be a judgey little meanie about it.

Finally, this thought: Many people have many opinions and thoughts on marriage. I can’t speak to anyone else’s experience, but for me, marriage doesn’t mean a one-way ticket to Stepford wife-ness, nor is it the equivalent of a grave. It is not an excuse to stop growing and learning and exploring. The reason I cringe at the term “settling down” is because I never plan to, no matter what my relationship status. When my fiancé becomes my husband, we will both continue to be ever-changing and ever-expanding human beings. The beautiful part is that we choose to pursue that growth and learn those lessons with another person. My life and marriage will be, in the words of J.M. Barrie, “an awfully big adventure.”

Photo by Michelle White

Photo by Michelle White

Micromanaging My Engagement

I’ve never believed that real proposals are like the ones in the movies.  Raise your hand if Billy Idol helped your significant other propose to you. See? That like hardly ever happens.

It’s all about what fits you best as a couple.  Personally, I’m on the practical side.  My fiancé and I discussed it beforehand, came to a mutual decision, and agreed that we wanted to get married.  I wasn’t caught off-guard with crowds of strangers and loud megaphones like those viral videos you see these days—knowing that the question was coming was a mixture of anticipation and excitement, culminating in a night that was sweet and relaxed and perfect for us.

When my then-boyfriend popped the question to me, it had been a while in the making. I had already known him for ten years (hel-lo, middle school), and we had been dating for five. But we were (and are) young: so how did we know? How could I be sure he was good for me? How could he know that I would want to marry him? How certain were we that we would be compatible forever?

Seventeen-year-old me thought I would never get married. My parents finally ended their unhappy marriage in an angry, years-long divorce when I was 12. In the years that followed, my significant others in high school simply reinforced my belief that committed relationships were a melange of manipulation and selfishness—the behavior that I had seen in my dad for years.  To me, “compatibility” was a temporary mode: a person could fill a place in your heart for a little over a year and, when the laughing inevitably stopped, it was time to move on.

What changed my mind? Honestly, I have no clue.  I dated Mike for three years and realized at some point that I didn’t want to ever let him go.  Gradually, we started talking what the future held for us (a somewhat inevitable conversation, considering we were in college preparing for that future).  We planned our careers, talked about how we both loved our city, dreamed about vacations and whether either of us would ever be able to afford a house in the insanely expensive Silicon Valley.  And those conversations occasionally, jokingly, included one another.

Our joking continued for over a year—laughing about how our hypothetical children would be insanely smart but with horrible unibrows (from both of us), horrible teeth (from both of us), horrible eyesight (from me), and horrible scoliosis (from him).  Those poor things.

And then, at some point, I started wondering.  Graduation inched closer, and as a forward-thinker I had to know whether or not to plan to keep him in my life.  I decided I didn’t want to ever lose him, but guys get freaked out by commitment, right?  I broached the subject a few times (with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop): “So, uh, I love you a lot and stuff.  Do you think we could, like, be happy forever?”  Somewhat infuriatingly, I couldn’t tell if Mike was catching my hint: his adorable, easy-going nature led to the ever-so-helpful responses such as “Of course, darling, I will love you forever!”  I had no idea if he was engaging in stereotypical romantic hyperbole, or if he actually was down with this whole marriage thing.

Today, I can’t recall exactly how I first introduced the M-word, but I do remember a period of a few months where I alternated between swells of blissful happiness and deflating dread that I was “pushing him” toward an engagement because “men are afraid of commitment” so obviously he’s just saying these wonderful things to “appease me.”  (I’m obviously neurotic.)  It only took Mike reassuring me approximately fifty thousand times before I started to believe that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

These now-serious conversations sweetened into sappy heart-to-hearts and continued for almost a year, until the practical side of my brain just couldn’t take it anymore.  I pulled up Google Calendar and we blocked out a general plan: my graduation in spring 2012, a summer engagement, his fall graduation, next year’s wedding, some crappy entry-level jobs, living abroad in 2014, then coming home and getting real jobs.  It was getting real, you guys.

In the end, the plan didn’t work out.  Mike’s counselors had steered him wrong and he ended up taking summer courses in order to avoid delaying graduation: this caused a very stressful summer where he was too overloaded to plan a proposal.  In the meantime, I landed an actual, real job right off the bat, thus ruining our plans of living abroad anytime soon (oops).

After Mike finished school in fall 2012, I sat him down, opened up gCal, and we tried to plan our lives again.  The year abroad was put on indefinite hiatus, and the proposal was moved to the following spring so that Mike could focus on training at his new job.  But after waiting a couple months into 2013, I got impatient and finally just picked the day for him to propose: our five-year anniversary.

It was nothing like the movies.  While that’s perfect for some, it would have been all wrong for us.  We’re of a practical ilk, and that works well for us.  When the chosen day rolled around, I knowingly let Mike drag me around to all the spots that meant so much to us: cavorting around all day at the museum we love to visit, changing into fancy clothes at the hotel where we had stayed when I got home after my semester abroad, indulging in a champagne dinner at the restaurant from our third anniversary.

And when stage fright caused him to forget everything he had planned on saying, I laughed, wiped the tears from my eyes, said yes and kissed him.

Photo by Sara Slattery