marriage or an affair?
/We all have lots of opportunities to consider whether a situation will be short-term or long. Maybe it’s a relationship or a significant purchase. Perhaps you’re pondering an investment of time and energy. Will it be right for a week, a month, a season, a lifetime?
Or just a couple of drinks?
In other words, is it a marriage or an affair?
For example, a house. You'll probably sleep there a few good years, maybe even with the same people, so deciding based on “I just love it” is foolhardy if it’s thirty miles from Starbucks, Wegmans, and Bloomie’s.
Yet isn’t loving something in that wild and silly way the thing that puts the pop in your step, the glow in your sallow cheeks?
And if you’re past the age when your cheeks glow, can you recapture that burst of bold abandon in the everyday meanderings of what to eat for dinner, what coat to buy, where to go on a Saturday night?
With choices circling constantly, some harder and riskier than others, I began to raise that piercing question on some pricey acquisitions: Is this a marriage or an affair? I started with the purchase of two big items, a couch and a car. I also asked the question about designer jeans, but everyone knows long-loving blues are harder to snag than a lifelong mate.
But many selections cause nearly as much distress, which could be solved by pausing then posing: “Will this be a final passage on the road of life or just a passing fancy?”
To figure it out, I wrote two lists.
Marriage:
Practical
Compatible
Not shocking
Sort of matches with everything
Might be hard to get out of
Could lead to pain and suffering
Affair:
Flashy
Risky
Might shock and embarrass
Might not match
Might be able to get out easy
Could lead to pain and suffering
With these ideas in mind, I went couch shopping. I figured beige, the color no one sees, was safe. It’s sensible, it horrifies no one, and it matches everything.
Or I could go with neon orange. Flashy, exciting, the boost in youthful riskiness could be worth it, and in a pinch there’s Craigslist. Maybe, I realized, it’s a long engagement, something between a marriage and a fling. Perhaps a beige couch with neon pillows.
How about buying a car? The sturdy, comfortable mom car, or the speedy, jazzy one with the flat seat and hard headrest? Will its novelty fade with each bump? Or will the joy of being in my affair zone thrill me even if my back hurts and I have a faint headache?
I tried to get clear about what’s what, hoping this would create more angst-free shopping.
Sandals are an affair. Easy come, easy go. Hiking boots are a marriage. It takes a long time to break them in. Travel: an affair. There’s always the next time. A dress for a wedding: a marriage. The pictures never go away. Nail polish: an affair. A good place to go crazy. A classic black coat: a marriage, or a long engagement if you add a red scarf. Tickets to the theater: an affair. You can skip out at intermission. A midriff top: a one-nighter. A small handbag: a brief fling. A big roomy satchel with space for a water bottle, antacids, lunch, a change of clothes, a Home Depot return: definitely a marriage with children.
Back to the car conundrum. It’s not like it’s an arm or a leg, an old family expression, though it could cost one or both. Still, it’s more than an affair, nearly a marriage.
And it dawned on me, could I get it all? Throw caution to the wind but avoid the pain and suffering if it doesn’t work out? Get the flashy car, have the wild affair, sign on the dotted line, but not marry it? A little risk, a little shock, a little commitment, then consign it like blue jeans?
And this is why—in these times of too many choices, too much confusion, too much fear, and so much obsession with freedom—living together first and leasing a vehicle are so darn popular.