How I Met And Married My Wife
In 2002, my third-youngest brother and his wife announced they were going to have a baby. The news absolutely floored me. This would be the first baby of our generation and represented a significant life change for us all.
I left their apartment that night thinking about life stages and transitions and found myself wondering why I wasn’t married yet. I’d always felt I’d wanted to be and had certainly had a number of opportunities. But I’d passed them all up for one reason or another and at 34 remained single.
Learning one of my younger brothers was going to be a father triggered something in me—a sense of urgency, a greater interest in moving my life forward, a need to shake things up—I’m not sure what. But the next morning I began a campaign to find my wife.
In Nichiren Buddhism we chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo to achieve our goals, whatever they may be, as way to simultaneously attain enlightenment. So I decided I would chant one million times (a “one million daimoku campaign”) to achieve this latest goal of mine. I’d done this multiple times in the past, usually with surprising results, so I knew it would take 300 hours—which, given my schedule, meant nine months.
Later that night I received an e-mail from a woman I’d queried on Match.com, an Internet dating site. I’d been surfing it for two years, had gone on numerous dates—even some good ones—but hadn’t yet found anyone I could envision as my life partner. The woman’s name was Rhea, and her profile was as articulate and bold as her photograph was beautiful. We corresponded by e-mail briefly, then talked one night on the phone—for two hours. The conversation flowed effortlessly and magnetically. We made plans to meet for dinner that weekend.
The date was wonderful. We ended up spending the entire following week together (I was on vacation) and soon found ourselves enthralled in a serious relationship. I wondered if she were indeed the woman for whom I’d been searching (and chanting) and marveled at the possibility that I could have found her on the same day I started my daimoku campaign. Yet as I didn’t yet know if I wanted to marry her, I continued chanting.
Our relationship progressed and on Christmas Eve of 2002 she moved in with me. Soon after, though, I began experiencing intense bouts of anxiety, mostly in the morning when I’d first wake up. I couldn’t figure out its cause and it soon rose to a level that was almost paralyzing.
I continued chanting, still unclear if I wanted to marry her or not. On an intellectual level, nothing stood in the way of my wanting to—though obviously not perfect, she was clearly excellent: smart, beautiful, emotionally healthy, happy, fun, in every way my equal (and in some ways my superior), someone I could not only enjoy but learn from.
But I seemed to be waiting for a switch to flip inside me, some internal confirmation that she was the one for me. I became aware that I was hesitating at least partially because to make any choice was simultaneously to not choose everyone else—but I overcame that obstacle as soon as I realized it was an issue. I only had to remind myself that most of the world’s billions of people would never make their way in front of me. Almost certainly somewhere someone more wonderful for me was out there (just as almost certainly someone more wonderful than me was out there for her—neither of us is perfect nor perfect for each other), but Rhea was more than wonderful enough.
Eventually my brother and his wife had their baby, a boy. Eight days later Rhea and I went to the bris. That morning, however, we had a terrific fight (I no longer remember what it was about—the way of most fights), and by the time we arrived at my brother’s we were barely speaking. When we came home, she went downstairs presumably to read and I went upstairs to chant.
I still didn’t know if I wanted to marry her. Still fuming from our argument, I decided enough was enough. I had two hours left to chant and by the end of that time, I decided, I was going to have my answer.
I chanted angrily at first…but gradually my thinking began to shift. I began to wonder just why at 35 now I still wasn’t married. I didn’t think that marriage was necessary for happiness or that a married life was even necessarily happier than a single one. But I’d always envisioned myself being married. So why wasn’t I? Had it only been a matter of not finding the right person, as I’d always presumed?
For reasons unclear to me, I found my thoughts drifting back to years earlier when I’d been a first-year resident. It was the first time I’d ever lived completely alone (I’d lived in a dormitory through four years of college and with roommates through four years of medical school), and as I thought back on it, I realized it was one of the happiest periods of my life. Why? Because when I came home at the end of the day I came home to an empty kingdom—one in which I had complete freedom to do whatever I wanted. No one else lived in my personal space to ask favors of me or require my help or have an opinion about what do to that was contrary to my own. That freedom, I suddenly realized, was what I really wanted more than anything else.
At that moment, at the very end of my 300 hour million daimoku campaign to find my wife, I discovered to my complete surprise that the true reason I was still single was that I wanted to be. I wanted to be alone. I was stunned.
But why? I realized the answer almost immediately. Being alone was the strategy I used to protect myself against the demands placed on me by others. Despite the breakthrough I’d made two years earlier where I’d freed myself from my need to be liked and thus my inability to say no (which I described in an earlier post, The Good Guy Contract), I realized I hadn’t changed enough. I could say no in a way I couldn’t before, stand up for myself to a degree I hadn’t, but both still made me uncomfortable and anxious. So how did I manage that anxiety? By preventing it from occurring in the first place. By reserving private time and space in which no one could demand of me anything.
This, then, I realized, was the true answer to why I’d felt so anxious once I’d started living with Rhea. She had no compunction at all about expressing her desires about anything: let’s go shopping, let’s go for a bike ride, let’s watch a movie. And though I didn’t dislike any of those things (except for the shopping), I often didn’t want to do them when she did. My anxiety arose because I felt helpless to determine the direction I wanted my life to go when she was in it. If I couldn’t express and take care of my own needs in a relationship, how I could ever accomplish my own life’s goals? Up to that point, remaining unattached was the only strategy I’d discovered (unconsciously until that moment) that I felt capable of executing. So I’d remained unmarried.
In that moment of understanding, I decided I didn’t want to remain as I was. I needed to learn to take care of myself once and for all, even in the midst of a relationship, so that not only could I have a relationship but also enjoy it. Rhea wasn’t just the woman I loved—she was an opportunity for me to forge myself into a stronger, happier person. And in that moment, I realized what my million diamoku campaign had actually been about all along: not me finding my wife but my growing into a person who could actually have one.
A week later, I asked her to marry me.
Next Week: Attack Every Problem Like A Lion Traps An Ant
Posted on January 24th, 2010
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Wow. What a compelling and intimate essay you have shared with such clarity and honesty. Thank you. It gives me much to reflect about.
Interesting post, and one that I can certainly identify with. My question is, how did you grow into the kind of person who could actually have a wife? Presumably, it took somewhat of an effort—I’d love to know what your thought process was and and how you worked toward that goal. Thanks!
Thank you SO much for that. I think that explains a lot about a lot of people. It is understandable that some people opt out (if they can) from the level of commitment that marriage requires. But like you discovered, one can take the plunge and have a whole new set of challenges that do enrich your person and your life. I do think it is vital that people gain the insight that you had so they can make whatever choice they need to—that is right for them.
It’s always about us, isn’t it? We’re not ready yet and so we’re stymied until the realization hits us. Thank you for sharing your story.
Hi, is there a place online where I can hear the chant? I have difficulty working out the correct pronunciation without hearing it. T hank you for the fantastic story. I’m delighted that you and Rhea worked it out.
“When we came home, she went downstairs presumably to read and I went upstairs to chant.”
I wonder what Rhea was doing/thinking/feeling while you went through your indecision. I hope you had enough space that the sound of your chanting didn’t drive her crazy. The struggle of marriage is the bringing of two unconsciousnesses together. You seem to have little awareness of hers. You changed, whoop-de-doo; what happened in Rhea?
Thank you, Alex, for sharing, so eloquently, such a beautiful story of love and personal growth. When you said that you needed to learn to take care of yourself, even in the midst of a relationship, I thought of a Buddhist story I heard many years ago that helped me tremendously in my own marriage (a marriage that’s now approaching it’s 45th year). I may not have the story exactly right (and Googling hasn’t helped me here) but, as I recall, a father and daughter had an acrobat act in which he balanced her in the air on his extended legs. He was worried that she’d fall and get injured. The Buddha (or perhaps one of his disciples) told the father that if he took care of his role in the performance, his daughter would be fine.
I learned from that story that taking care of myself was not a selfish act, that it was, in fact, an act of generosity toward my husband. It lifted a burden for him—giving him one less thing to worry about—and it made our time together more joyous.
I was busy tonight, Doc, but it was impossible for an old romantic like me to pass on your title. Have a heart! Anyway, you are absolutely correct about our need to care for ourselves and set boundaries.
Wonderful piece and insight as usual.
What a very honest and touching account of your process of self-discovery. This will ring true with many people. Thank you for sharing it.
I relate perfectly to your feeling. Independence and chosen solitude are truly addictive. For me, recognizing this issue has allowed me to stay in a long, solid relationship. However the strong urge to live alone keeps creeping back on me from time to time. Have you been able to banish this feeling completely?
“If I couldn’t express and take care of my own needs in a relationship, how I could ever accomplish my own life’s goals?” I have a similar need for introversion, and I’m not sure I understand the conundrum. There are a lot of things I demand from my personal space because I don’t get it “out there”; my home needs to be my home. For me, the problem is the solution—finding compatibility in needs for solitude; or, barring that, accepting the incompatibility and allowing each other to get our needs met separately. Is that what you meant? I do think that certain incompatibilities are easier to work around than others and an introversion/extroversion clash is fairly problematic.
Maybe I’m misreading it, but it seems to me that accepting yourself, your personality, is far more productive than deciding that you’re broken. Your decision that you were “at fault” seems like the extension of the Good Guy Contract. Your kids will demand that you not lock yourself up in your room for days, sure, but that’s a different kind of interaction than another adult who, in my reality, should be able to go for a bike ride without me.
Hello Alex,
I have been following your posts since my husband Mike forwarded them on to me. I have to say, every week, I am delighted, and “can’t wait” to read the next. My story is a bit humorous in that I grew up in an Italian Catholic household, even went as far as going to a Catholic college. In a college essay, I had not received a grade but instead an interesting comment that “I have Buddhist thoughts, and to please re-write my essay” as I believe did not meet the Catholic structure.
In any case, I have always been drawn to Buddhism, but have never explored it. Do you have a recommended “process” as to how to start exploring Buddhism as an adult? What’s the baby-steps process?
Thanks again for your insights and stories; they have enriched my life.
Kristy
I remember that so well the morning Rhea came to my window telling me she met this great guy named Alex and I met you a few days after that. You must have peaked her interest then somewhat about Buddhism because that’s when we started the dialogue about it, and she and I began chanting together for awhile. That was a turning point in my life as well. It’s amazing how we all connect at certain points in our life.
I was also amazed by how you chanted for all the qualities Rhea had, like being a non-drinker and more, for example; a year later you two were getting married after you finished the campaign; now that’s determination.
That is great, Alex. I not only thoroughly enjoyed the story and the insight but also connected with it in a big way.
I’ve never been married. I often feel *obliged* at my age to get to it, find the man, get hitched…but for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on—I just don’t want to. I loved your conclusion that your search was more about “growing into the person” who could successfully be in that relationship.
Interesting point of view—I’ll be chewing on that on today.
Take Care,
Jill
Your post spoke volumes to me. You were able to articulate what I have always felt. I want to be in a committed relationship but am loathe to give up my freedom. Fortunately, I am involved with a man who not only listens when I tell him what I need, he hears me and accepts it. Thank you for your thought-provoking weekly posts. I greatly enjoy them as part of my Mondays.
I’m impressed with your courage to open up to the whole world. After all, I see you commenting on every New York times article directing traffic to you blog. Good job; you have a message that couldn’t have enough listeners.
Beautiful.
Hi Alex,
Your chanting seems to be a very powerful means of self-recognition, a difficult first step to becoming more the person you want to be. I don’t know whether the practice of Buddhism might be a path that could work for me, but it seems like something worth exploring. Thanks for sharing your stories—they are quite moving in different ways. Even though (I think!) I am nothing like you, it seems to me that quite a few of the challenges I struggle with are remarkably similar to yours.
Carolyn
I met my husband on Match.com. For the year prior to that I decided I wanted to prove to myself that I could be perfectly fine on my own. My desire for marriage was the opposite of yours. I was afraid to be alone.
For one year, no dating. Just friends, family and focusing on personal growth. One week, to the day, after the year was up I got this random email in my mailbox: Match.com…
Gives me goosebumps just writing about it.
First, thanks as always for providing a thought-provoking article and putting your heart and soul out there for everyone to see. Many things in this week’s post resonated with me, as I thought back to when I was in my late 20s and my wife and I were “courting—”
“…though obviously not perfect, she was clearly excellent: smart, beautiful, emotionally healthy, happy, fun, in every way my equal (and in some ways my superior), someone I could not only enjoy but learn from.” My wife and I met in law school, had similar social and political views, family histories, and dysfunctions, enjoyed each other’s company and her family welcomed me as another son. Moreover, even more importantly, she seemed to like me in a way women had never liked me before.
“But I seemed to be waiting for a switch to flip inside me, some internal confirmation that she was the one for me.” I felt the same but I thought to myself, “So what if the ’she’s the one’ switch didn’t flip, she could be one of the ones and if one of the ones gets away, what happens if the one doesn’t show up?”
The following also rang true for me, “I didn’t think that marriage was necessary for happiness or that a married life was even necessarily happier than a single one. But I’d always envisioned myself being married.” And finally, “By reserving private time and space in which no one could demand of me anything.” I explained to myself (and to her) that my private place stemmed from my somewhat solitary childhood and I couldn’t give it up. So we married and had two beautiful children.
Up through the paragraph beginning, “[t]his, then, I realized, was the true answer to why I’d felt so anxious once I’d started living with Rhea,” I completely understood (or so I thought) what you were saying, until I got to the next paragraph. I was sure you were going to realize that she wasn’t the one because of the anxiety you’d been feeling. I was expecting you to say “’The one’ shouldn’t make you anxious.” But, instead, “Rhea wasn’t just the woman I loved—she was an opportunity for me to forge myself into a stronger, happier person.” Your final phrase of your final sentence really struck me, “not me finding my wife but my growing into person who could actually have one.”
That struck me in a way that you might not have foreseen. I tried to forge myself into a stronger, better person (girded my loins, so to speak). I thought I would “grow,” but it seemed more like “change.” I continued to try to “forge and grow” for nearly the 20 years of my marriage, which only led to an ever-deepening depression on my part and further and further estrangement between my wife and me. It wasn’t until she left that I stopped forging and growing (or, in my mind, changing) and allowed myself to be who I am. It was when I started being me that that core of loneliness slipped away and wanted/needed someone with whom to share my life. I now have a spouse (legally in California—we were married during the window) that is also “smart, beautiful, emotionally healthy, happy, fun, in every way my equal (and in some ways my superior), someone I can not only enjoy but learn from” and, to borrow from Jack Nicholson’s character in “As Good as It Gets,” “makes me want to a better man” but doesn’t trigger soul-trembling anxiety.
It is probable that many straight men identify completely with the story of how you married your wife, which is a beautiful thing. Mazel tov! (Sincerely.) I would imagine, too, that there are gay men, at least “of a certain age,” that recognize my through-the-looking-glass version.
Just lovely, and please don’t stop commenting on The Times’ blog. That is how I found you.
Thank you. This is a lesson I am learning, too. It is not about finding perfection, for that doesn’t exist. We would do well to embrace the Japanese ethic of wabi-sabi, about oneself and others.
The only real question is, what do I need? What will bring me happiness, for then, I will be a joy to others as well. I am obligated to make my needs known, in a compassionate but direct way. For one who wishes to please, that can sometimes be difficult. But, we are being inauthentic if we cannot share our anxieties and fears and hopes with someone who matters, right?
I chanted to find the best life partner I could.
In addition it seems, consciously or not, you also chanted to be the best partner in life you could be.
Thank you, Alex, for another insightful post.
I remember how fierce that fight was and what kind of negative emotion it stirred up in me. But, I don’t remember what we actually fought about. This is a clear indication to me the conflict arose out of some turmoil I had going on inside myself and actually didn’t really have much to do with what you were, or were not, doing. We both had to change in order to become two people ready to enter into a marriage. Being in a marriage is just like being in business. The business we’re in together is the business of life and now a family with our son. What I love about you is your willingness to continue growing and looking at yourself instead of always looking outside yourself for the source of a problem. Being in a marriage with you makes me a better person. As an assertive (and that’s an understatement!) woman my tendency is to charge ahead with my ideas and plans without the other person’s input. I assume if the other person has input to share they’ll do so in the same enthusiastic, fast-paced manner that I do. You’re teaching me to step back, reflect, listen and be willing to really understand the other person’s needs and wants. God knows I need all the help I can get (LOL)!
So far you’ve more than lived up to this excerpt from your wedding vow:
Keep up the great blog posts. Your honesty and willingness to share your strengths and shortcomings makes you a unique character in this often challenging social world.
Wow. The last line you wrote is the most telling. I, too, feel like the change must come from within. Hopefully, I am that person that can unconditionally embrace a partner for a lifetime.
I had rolling goose bumps while reading it. You’re so honest and analytical. Thanks for sharing! It’s very interesting and I’m happy to be a part of it.
Alex,
What an amazing honest post from the both of you. Although, I have to give credit to your wife. I’m not sure I would have stuck around while you sorted out if you wanted to get married or not. What an amazing journey this life is!
When I first met my husband I recognized early on that he was the type of person who went with the flow even if he was not that into it. So I made a concerted effort to ensure that he was making decisions based on how he felt and would not allow him to get away with saying, “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” This really worked for us because he was relaxed, happy, and always singing. When he stops singing I know that something is bothering him.
This worked for me as well because I learned I did not have to always be in control, which made room for him to be the real him.
A very wise man, a psychiatrist with a tender heart, told me: “Romantic love is never unconditional.” And that one phrase made everything come together for me. We all find different ways to calm our souls.