Did you commit too soon?

I am 35 years of age, still considered relatively young by some.  I have been with my husband for 16 years.  Of those 16 years, I’ve been married 11.    To all the maths nerds out there, I’m guessing you’ve already figured out that this means I’ve been with the same man since I was 19.  Since we are incorporating a maths lesson into today’s post it’s also probably notable to mention, that I have an eleven year old daughter.  Go on, you can say it – Shotgun.  I kid, I wanted to marry and commit to my husband as much as he did.  So much so, I even proposed to him.

Because he was my lightning bolt moment.  You know the one?  Maybe you don’t, and I know it’s clichéd, but to this day, I still can’t explain it.  The night we officially got together, i.e. had sex on the beach after a heavy night of drinking, it was like we were magnetised.  And instantly, we couldn’t bear to be apart.

To be honest, we’d met a few times before that night and I had found him to be a complete arsehole.  An absolute hot arsehole, but an arsehole none the less.  He was rude, obnoxious, smoked a packet of Longbeach a day and wouldn’t give me the time of day. Bad boy personified.  I could not have wanted him more.

16 years on, the lightning bolt is more like a flickering light bulb and spending a night apart is almost a cause for celebration.  So sometimes,  yeah, I contemplate, did I commit too early?  Have I accomplished enough?  Did I experience the world before my chance to be footloose and fancy free was taken away from me?  I mean at 24 I was married, mortgaged and a mother. Did I miss out?  Is it only natural to contemplate if the grass is greener or would the mowing of said lawn, simply be another chore I would have to fit into an already overcrowded weekend?

And it wasn’t like I was the only girl at the time getting married.  It didn’t feel too young, it felt right.  But now, well now announcing at 21 that you were engaged and getting married at 24 would almost be frowned upon.  There would be cries of “Live a little”.  “Don’t settle down yet, you’ve got to experience the world and travel”.  You’ll regret not trying out more before you buy”

Have I missed out on sexual experiences due to, let’s face it, my lack of sexual partners.  Fair to say I can count them on one hand.  Would I or could I have experienced some kind of Sting Tantric sexual experience if I had just hung out and had all of my fun before I turned 30?  Or would that have just gotten me an epic case of crabs?

Was there someone else out there in this world that I would have been more compatible with?  Someone who adores reading and writing as much as I do?  Did I miss him simply because I went for the first guy who made my heart explode?

Could I have fulfilled my yearning to be a journalist and writer if I hadn’t been so engrossed in a heady relationship and then, subsequently with a wedding and babies?  If there was no us, would I have made sure I was a more successful “me”?

Did I miss anything by not attending the obligatory Contiki Tour of Europe and subsequent early morning walk of shame back to bus with my sandals in hand?  Because, let’s face it, by the time I stopped popping out and attending to babies, I was too old to fit their mandatory age criteria.

And you do think about these things because at times being committed to only one person is incredibly hard.  There have been times when we’ve looked at each other and asked outright “Is this it, do you even love me anymore?”   Toughing out the times when your husband is being held down by inexplicable depression, or caring for someone as they die, tests your mettle as a couple.

Even the everyday can bring you to breaking point. You may very well tell him the how important the parent-teacher interview is on Friday, but he will not be able to commit this to memory. Nor will he hold in high regard, the fact that colours need to be discussed before they are painted onto your walls. And these minor occurrences will start to shit you. Slowly at first. Then it will build and build until there is a monumental blow-up and somehow or another, you turn into Britney Spears on a head shaving rampage. And then you will be left, three days later, wondering what just happened. Once it was all about mini-breaks and shagging. Now it’s about home insurance and cleaning dogshit off the carpet. How and when did it get to this?

Well from my experience, it’s cyclical. I reckon any couple that is 100% happy 100% of the time is either lying or insane.

Couples go through phases. Ones when you can stand each other and ones when, meh… you could truly take or leave each other. So when the bad outweighs the good, I guess it will be time to reassess.

The thing is, if you want commitment, you have to, at some point dive in and surrender.  I’m just glad that when I did, it was with someone that did and still does give me butterflies.  Even if, at times it feels like those butterflies are reluctant to emerge from their cocoons.

How old were you when you committed? Do you ever regret it (for even a minute)? Maybe you haven’t committed yet? Do you worry about making that step?

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