You all have lied about relationships, and I’m over it

Thanks to Disney and social media, I can’t recognize what a good relationship looks like when I have one

Admit it. You do it too. You are a part of the problem. I have held back for too long, but I’m just going to come right out and say it:

I’m pissed at you.

I’m also pissed at Disney. I’m pissed at Hollywood, the Bible, “I said yes to the dress!” chalkboards, bridesmaid proposals and engagement photo shoots. I am tired of this perfect fairy tale we are (literally )sold: ‘first comes love, then comes marriage…’

The way our society talks about romantic love and marriage has distorted my own sense of self-worth, hindered my ability to be the best partner I can be and made me fearful for the future.

I am over it.

Picture this. Freshman year of college, a cute, smart guy catches my eye. We become friends on Facebook, and I make some poor attempts to flirt, but he doesn’t catch on. We both have our own relationships and our lives, and so I leave it be. Then, four years later, I send him a message out of the blue, still interested after all this time. To my surprise, he enthusiastically agrees to a date with me. We go out for Indian food, we have a sweet first kiss, and we’re so excited about each other that we go on our second date the following day. He’s a bit nerdy, totally hot, and is the most selfless and loving person I’ve ever met. We can’t get enough of each other, things move super fast, and soon I’m halfway moved in to his apartment. Sounds perfect, right?

It gets better! Early on in our relationship, we find out that we are both bisexual and share many common sexual fantasies. Our sex life is great: he loves to go down me, he likes to play with anal toys and be submissive, and we switch power dynamics seamlessly. He’s extremely careful with consent and boundaries, and I trust him completely. We decide to try a totally new sexual adventure together, dipping our toes into The Lifestyle for the first time. We have wonderful, open conversations about our sex, and we know how to spice things up when it seems we’re getting into a slump. By all accounts, our relationship seems wonderful. We move in together a little over a year into our relationship, and we manage the grocery shopping, laundry and intertwining of our lives, bedtimes, and finances with little hassle.

It all sounds great! Like a totally healthy, enviable relationship. But still, something feels wrong. As I scroll through my Facebook news feed, I get the feeling that we’re behind. There are engagement pictures everywhere. All traditional proposals, all traditional rings. Strapless white dresses. Church, reception, honeymoon; it’s the same old story. There are heartfelt posts about how they knew it was meant to be from the beginning. The proposals are coming from first loves and high school sweethearts. People are starting to get pregnant by choice. I’m a little freaked out by this, and I want no part of it. So then why do I feel like I should?

What does it mean that we’re almost two years into our relationship, things are going great, and we’re not engaged? Is there something wrong with me because I don’t feel ready to be engaged? I love this guy with all my heart, but I’m extremely cynical about the idea of marriage. My partner and I won’t be the same people ten years from now. What if our careers drive us apart? What if we get bored? Aren’t we way too young to be making the decision to commit to someone for the rest of our lives? And why in the world are other people’s relationships causing me so much distress? Seriously, I went into a deep depression for about a week over the engagement of some friends, and every time I see their sappy posts, my heart sinks. I should be happy for them, but instead, I’m jealous. Why don’t I feel so sure? Am I just in the wrong relationship, despite all indications to the contrary? When it’s the right person, aren’t you just supposed to know?

When I bring my concerns about my relationship to my friends, they reassure me that I’m actually the normal one. Several of my friends from up north say that people in the South get married extremely early, and that it’s a little weird. They tell me I shouldn’t be jealous, since half of those relationships will statistically end in divorce*. It’s better to take my time and make sure I’m doing what’s right for me. When I put my logic cap on, I also realize that most of the engagements I see are from people with very different values and backgrounds than mine. They are usually couples of a lofty socioeconomic status, whose parents have the money to bankroll the celebration. If they’re not rich, they’re usually at least religious, perhaps sped along by their desire to have sex and babies with God’s seal of approval. I, on the other hand, have had more than fifty sexual partners. I think of my place in the world as a very small one, always considering the vastness of our planet and the diversity of people and cultures that inhabit it. With so many people, how could there possibly be just one person for everyone?

*Editor’s Note: Not exactly, but close enough

In my own life, I’ve only seen relationships two ways. I’ve seen them through Facebook and Instagram filters, with closeups of diamonds and picture-perfect smiles. And I’ve seen them at home, full of screaming, hitting, throwing and threatening. I grew up thinking that loving someone meant hurting them, over and over again, until one person broke. My own first loves were tumultuous, full of manipulation, tears, makeups and breakups, and even vomiting. Some days I feel too comfortable in my relationship; my partner starts to feel like a roommate, and I wonder where the passion is. But then I remember what my idea of “passion” feels like: unstable, emotional, and exhausting. Is that really what I want?

Is that really what I want?

I think about the purpose of marriage in different cultures. Sometimes it’s about passionate love, but sometimes it’s about creating stability, combining assets, and finding a way to make it in this capitalistic, individualistic world. In my large, Arab, Muslim family, the only two female cousins who are older than me have already married. There is an expectation that I will be next, because that’s just the thing you do. It’s not about finding someone you can’t live without; it’s just about finding someone you can make a home and raise a family with without pulling each other’s hair out. The idea sounds less exciting, but also less stressful. I have that with my current partner. Does that mean it’s time?

All these anxieties and questions are no doubt driven by my unhealthy social media addiction, my tendency to overthink everything and my own conflicting needs and values. I want stability, but I also want adventure. I want commitment, but I also want freedom. I want to be my own person, but I also want to grow with someone else. I don’t feel very self-aware, and I don’t think I’ve found what really makes me tick and makes me happy yet. When I do find it, is it going to be totally different than what my partner wants? Am I going to wreck everything by finding myself?

I don’t know. And the unknowns are what keep me up at night, scrolling through the comments on friends’ engagement posts.

Now, back to you. I did say I was mad at you, and I want to work it out. What can you do, what can we all do, to reduce some of this comparison anxiety that is driving us all mad?

One thing that makes me feel more comfortable is hearing friends be open about their own relationship struggles and arguments. It makes me feel normal to know that others fight over the laundry or go through periods where it’s difficult to communicate. It salves my anxiety to know that others are also constantly working through fears, uncertainties and second guesses. Posting about your partner when you’re happy is fine (I do it too), but maybe we should start posting about things that aren’t so great. We should give each other room to voice when things aren’t picture-perfect, and we should normalize all types of healthy relationships, married or otherwise.

We should stop idealizing and idolizing romantic love, and learn instead to foster community. We should do away with the idea that our partner needs to fulfill all our needs and answer all our questions. Sometimes a partner is just that: a good partner, not an end-all, be-all. I am really struggling hard right now to be okay with that. I don’t want to end my relationship, but I don’t want to take the ‘next step,’ either. I just want to stay right here, stumbling through my early twenties, learning how to cook and figuring out things as I go along. And for now, it feels nice to have a good partner to do that with me, even if we don’t put a ring on it just yet.

Ok, I’m not mad at you anymore. I just needed to let that all out. Now tell me about you! Do the incessant engagement and wedding posts get you down too? How have you learned to avoid comparison or fight the urge to settle down before you’re ready? OMG: am I normal? Please comment below; maybe I’ll feel less alone!