On Marriage and Destiny

Benoit Blanc in ‘Knives Out’ describes how the novel ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ inspires his method of solving mysteries, where he observes the ‘facts [of a case] without biases of the head or heart…I determine the arc’s path, stroll leisurely to its terminus and the truth falls at my feet.’

I actually have read - and loved - ‘Gravitys’ Rainbow’, but I can just as well take Benoit's media meta-commentary as a summary of the book's entire metaphysical thrust, as well as a fair description of how getting married felt: preordained, bound up with the whole course of history, determined by natural law like the path of a projectile, and yet - in my emotional mortal coil - impossible to have predicted.

In my 20’s, I was very much one of those cringe ‘beta males’ you see chasing the manic pixie dream girls - I was painfully aware of my flaws, but also felt I had great value and, say, potential to offer the world. I felt I needed a beautiful, deeply wise but also totally chill girlfriend who could love me unconditionally into some form of acceptable adult. Or not; her love was unconditional, after all.

Insecurity is never a good ingredient in the grand recipe of a relationship, and after one or two failed attempts at salvation-through-girlfriend I realized I needed to figure myself out before expecting someone else to love my mess.

Stepping up and getting your act together in your mid-20s can really just be another form of outrunning your insecurity, especially as I was just trying to excel at the things I thought people expected of me. Learning useful work skills, prioritizing healthy living and diving into faith were solid steps towards an identity, but I eventually learned I couldn’t stack enough church chairs or volunteer at enough charity events to impress the ‘good girls.’

A few key factors in my late 20’s helped pull me into healthier, stronger view of relationships. Finding my talents was one booster. I remember finishing in the top 10 of a Brooklyn marathon and watching a few other finishers hug their partners in happy relief; I felt a sweet-bitter pride at having done well by my own damn self. Finding my groove at work and moving to my own place in Nolita, then Soho, also helped solidify my confidence. I embraced the downtown New York aesthetic, physically and emotionally, and began to notice changes in how women responded to my presence; more eye contact and furtive hair brushes, heedless laughs, small smiles from strangers on the street.

I was developing rizz; my wifed-up peers, I thought, were sad simps who had relegated themselves to a pasty early entry into middle-aged obsolescence. And I was pretty sure I could steal their ladies if I really wanted to.

Whether or not I was actually playing Mr. Steal-Ya-Girl, the confidence helped me. Loving my identity, my strengths and the full breadth of my own story helped me on the exciting and emotionally fraught dating scene in New York City. Some of my best nights from the ages of 28-31 were on dates with lovely women which went ‘nowhere,’ so to speak, but lasted hours and meandered into deep conversational and emotional territory. I learned much about running, business, coding and real estate on these dates; maybe some of these women expected me to follow-up the next day. In either case, I enjoyed myself.

This self-possession with a hint of narcissism is also what helped me stay patient for a beautiful flight attendant I Hinge-swiped on in September 2021; she said she wasn’t able to meet for at least a month due to work scheduling out of Chicago. I wasn’t sure if this was the truth, or if she was stacking me against another scheduled rendezvous. A beautiful woman always has time for a date worth her while, after all.

When Megan and I finally met at a too-fancy Italian restaurant in Soho, I sensed a certain standoffishness, a cool repose. She was confident, funny and - she made clear early on - not signing up for just any guy with a downtown apartment and a tendency to spend lavishly on women they love. She was traditionally-minded, and exhorted me to take my time with the relationship - to embrace every stage, whether or not it would lead to the altar.

By the time we moved in together, in August 2022, I was starting to see the anticipated terminus of the rocket. All my fears, flaws, emotional hair-triggers and sometimes poor decision-making couldn’t stop preordination. Metaphysics aside, I don’t believe in finding ‘the one’, or ‘soulmates,’ but I had lived and lost enough to know when to grab hold and not let go. Megan was too good to let slip.

We got married last month, on May 11th, in Lexington, Kentucky, in front of a small ceremony of close family. The pastor from the church where she grew up preceded over the nuptials; horses grazed in the sun-dappled rolling hills surrounding the stone fountain where we said our vows. In that wonderful evening, I saw that I had reached the end of a rocket’s terminus, and sure enough, the truth had landed at my feet.

Until next time.