Leading up to our wedding, my fiancé, Jason, casually mentioned, “We can always get divorced.” I nodded in agreement, as if we were merely discussing a questionable lunch option—no big deal, we could always change our minds. His proposal, born from an ultimatum, felt more like a grim necessity than a romantic gesture. Honestly, I was less excited than some historical figures who married out of obligation rather than love.
Let me clarify—Jason was a good man. Here’s how good he was:
When my mother received a stage-three colon cancer diagnosis, Jason, despite being an anxious driver, rented a car and drove through the Holland Tunnel, across highways, all the way to West Virginia. He picked up prescriptions, took us to chemotherapy sessions, and bought us meals from the local grocery store. My parents were living in a post office at the time (a story for another day), and Jason accepted this oddity without a single complaint, even munching on yams while perched on a stack of catalogues. Occasionally, a postal customer would peer through the mailboxes, and he’d greet them with a fork in hand.
Once my mother finished the bulk of her treatment, we rented an RV and headed back to West Virginia since there was no room for us at the post office. Some friends joined us for a Memorial Day pig roast, which Jason found unexciting—he’s a New Yorker, an insomniac who prefers Thai food and indie films over rustic gatherings.
On the return trip, after a long day of festivities, we had to return the RV late at night. I recalled the rental contract stating that the sewage tank valves had to be left open. No problem, I thought, because a friendly trucker had helped us empty the tanks earlier that day. However, Jason twisted the valves and let out a strangled yell. I peered through the window to hear a sound that made my stomach drop—something hitting the pavement. Surely, we had emptied the tanks, right? But no, the trucker had rushed us, and we were left with a messy surprise.
“The tanks aren’t empty,” Jason muttered, and I wondered about the fees for leaving a mountain of waste in the parking lot. In a moment of desperation, he grabbed a piece of cardboard and attempted to scoop the mess into the nearby trees, but it was futile. He resorted to using plastic bags on his hands, scooping and tossing the waste away.
When another RV pulled into the lot, Jason held his hands up like a guilty party caught in the act, but thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice. He never complained about the pig roast, the long drive, or the mess he found himself cleaning up.
“Let’s try washing the pavement?” I suggested, finding a hose that couldn’t reach our spot. We resorted to hauling buckets of water, only to realize too late that the lot sloped toward the office door, creating a river of filth. In the end, we gave up, returned the keys, and drove back to Brooklyn, where Jason dutifully cleaned our clothes and shoes without a single complaint.
At that time, Lori Gottlieb’s piece “Marry Him! The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough” had recently sparked conversations, urging women to lower their standards in order to find a partner. Although I wasn’t directly influenced by the article, I felt the pressure of being 33 and unmarried. I settled into a relationship that was good but not exceptional. Jason wasn’t interested in marriage or children, yet I pressed for a proposal, believing that a fine relationship was better than none.
Our wedding felt less joyous than the RV adventure. It took us months to set a date, and the ceremony itself was a mix of embarrassment and frustration, like winning a game when the opponent had already given up. We spent our honeymoon upstate, walking around a lake, devoid of any romance. I remember those moments with a heavy heart, much like recalling a traumatic experience.
The conversation we should have had years earlier finally took place two months after our wedding. It was painful; I was furious at myself for letting it get this far. Jason moved back into his apartment, which he hadn’t given up, and we filed for an annulment. Surprisingly, my spirits lifted, and I felt excitement about the prospect of dating again. I even bought new clothes and makeup, worried only about finding someone in time to start a family.
What do men think about women “settling”? Some believe women trick nice guys into supporting their dreams, while others think women should know their worth and settle for less. These views reflect a troubling double standard.
Then, a few months later, I met a musician named Leo at a party. We clicked, and soon he expressed a desire to marry and have children. We tied the knot when I was 35 and welcomed our first child at 36, with a second at 39. He brings laughter into my life daily, making even mundane moments enjoyable.
Having children has proven to be more challenging than I anticipated, especially without family nearby. But it’s a worthwhile journey, and if you’re considering your options, check out resources like this one on breastfeeding or explore this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
And if you’re looking to start your own family journey, consider using an at-home insemination kit.
Summary:
Six years ago, I settled for a relationship that was merely “good enough” with Jason, who was a decent partner but not what I truly wanted. After enduring a challenging marriage, we ultimately parted ways. I later found happiness with Leo, who embraced my dreams of marriage and family, proving that it’s never too late to pursue true love and fulfillment.