What kind of society have we wrought when a man is now devastated by being called marriage material? In Magdalene J. Taylor’s latest post, she muses on the “marriage material/hookup divide” surfaced by a story on Twitter that had been routed from Reddit in which a woman told her boyfriend of two years that she wouldn’t consider him for a one-night stand or a friend with benefits, but that he’s “marriage material.” This admission apparently infuriated and wounded him, and the original poster thinks she may have destroyed the relationship. Mind you, this is not some insecure adolescent. Both are 28 years old.
Taylor recognizes this bizarre and ironic turn of events as ripe for exploration. (It’s also funny as hell. Comedians, have at it.) First, the obvious. When has being called marriage material ever been a slight, and why would that be? More importantly, when did “hookup culture” become respectable or desired or something to be proudly broadcast? One-night stands have always been a thing, obviously, but we didn’t hold them up as an ideal. No self-respecting person would claim that kind of behavior was modus operandi for a happy life, or one of integrity. Not even a man.
Yet, now, with FWB (friends with benefits) and, more galling, ENM (ethical non-monogamy), men—and women too, apparently—are suggesting these lifestyle choices are preferable to a solid marriage.
I get that many of us are products of bad marriages and worse divorces. I get that many believe humans are not naturally monogamous (and I guess we aren’t), but I have trouble believing ENM is working so well for people.
In my case, it’s not an aphrodisiac to learn halfway through a date that the man I’m out with is ENM, which is what happened the other day.
I met my date on a dating app, predictably. We’d been texting for a few months, every few weeks. Our conversation wasn’t exactly enthralling, but I figured I’d meet him. He seemed innocuous enough, and who knew, maybe we’d like each other. We met at a pub not far from my house. He was early and received me at the door—a nice touch. He was also ruggedly handsome, which was even nicer.
We got our pints and found ourselves a wood-paneled booth. We sized each other up and were not displeased with one another's appearance. Our conversation was bumpy, however. I was getting hints his life wasn’t as secure as I might have liked. I also grew a bit bored. We weren’t able to go deep on anything, and I was sensing our lives were rather different. When we’d finished our pints, he suggested a walk. That’s when he sprang the ENM conversation on me.
As we made our way up Piedmont Avenue toward the cemetery, he detailed the situation with his girlfriend in Paris, her boyfriend, his (in turn) ex-wife, their son, and the whole mish-mash. It got even more tedious (and icky, sorry) when I learned that they all work for a “famous sex club in Paris.” Yes, the whole family.
I felt sad when he told me that his could-have-been step-daughter was five years old when he hooked up with her mother and is now a young woman. I couldn’t help but think of how many men and women that child had potentially cycled through.
And I’m guilty of it too. Let’s just put that out there. My problem was “serial monogamy” — i.e., lots of boyfriends. And my ex-…? The father of my children? He had even more girlfriends. A couple of years after we broke up, it dawned on me that my young children had met something like eight potential step-parents. How could they make sense of it? That was the first time I stopped dating.
After listening politely for 45 minutes, I began looking for my exit. At the end of the street, I thanked him and said I must be off. My date said, I’d like to see you again. I said, I’m sorry the ENM thing just won’t work for me. He said, It’s more honest. I said, I know. I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t believe you can build a relationship on such a rocky foundation. (Sludge is more like it. Such a sludgy foundation.)
Perhaps I’m being judgmental. I’m trying not to be.
Another man I truly liked a few years ago was also ENM. I liked him, that is, until that bit came to light. We connected deeply, initially. He smelled so good. He always smelled good and still does, and it wasn’t cologne. It was pheromones. He had all the same reasons for his ENM lifestyle preference. It was more honest, he said. Humans aren’t monogamous, yada yada. This man, like the one I met this week, was also old, too old for this (judgment alert).
Is it in fact older people who are most enthusiastically embracing this lifestyle? Maybe for some women, it’s good. For people who have freed themselves of toxic marriages and have no intention of getting entrapped again, perhaps ENM is the ticket. For woman who want to protect their finances or are adamant they don’t want to become a nursemaid, perhaps it works.
I’m that rare bird who’d never watched a single episode of Sex and the City—until last night, when I watched the first three of Season One. The series is from 2003, and it seemed the issues we’re confronting today were all present then as well. Women longing to be married yet proclaiming to want to sleep around like a man does. And yet, you can clearly see that these characters just want a partner they love and can trust.
Who doesn’t want this?
Don’t we all want the same thing? We all want to be loved and cherished. We want to feel safe. We want to laugh, and be with someone who has our back. We want to make plans together, create memories together, share a life. What’s it all for if we don’t do that?
I’ve been in a dating desert for years now. At first, it was self-imposed because I’d dated like a maniac for much of my life, and I was sick of it and myself. I wanted, and needed, a re-set.
The problem is, I’m 56 now, and I still want a great relationship. I want to be married.
But, like everyone else, I don’t want to get trapped in a situation that is going to hurt me emotionally or financially, or prevent me from pursuing my dreams or interests.
And, well, I’m 56. It’s not super easy to get a date anymore.
I do believe there’s a great man out there for me, and that we’d be able to help each other learn and grow, that we’d have compatible interests and goals, that he’d want to live in Spain with me for a couple of years, that we could laugh at life and ourselves, that we wouldn’t be morbidly jealous or slip into the drink. That we could be relatively happy—happier together than alone.
The sorrow is that for so many people, they’ve tried to find this and been disappointed, time and time again. They don’t want to open their hearts again.
My date the other day said as much. He briefly touched on the fact that his heart had been broken, and he’d been ENM ever since.
My friend R., a man, said to me a long time ago that in matters of love he would just keep jumping out of the plane without a parachute. That was his choice. He stood by it. He tried and tried and tried. He kept jumping out of the plane without a parachute. Lo and behold, one day, he was miraculously buoyed up. The wind under his sails was a Chilean woman named M. Three kids and nearly 30 years later, they are still married.
I’m not certain they’re wildly happy together. I don’t know the details of their relationship. What I do know is that they’ve built something: A family, a unit, a home, a financial stronghold, a tower of shared memories. These are things that have meaning, a kind of meaning that grows stronger with time. Their relationship, good or bad, is a bulwark against the tides of a rapidly changing world.
An excellent account of the visceral, unscripted adventure of finding love 💕… just when you give up… there it is looking at you like a puppy dog in an animal shelter begging for adoption…
After reading this, I am grateful for the family I have my mother, father, and siblings. We really live together fight, laugh,eat and enjoy the life together.I pray that you may get the partner you want!