Making Marriage Work

My life changed when I ran into my boyfriend's brother. I was in a rut then. I had a job as a software tester that I absolutely detested. I was in a relationship with a man who was unsure about his sexual identity. And I was very unhappy and didn't know it.

I was in "A clean well-lit place", a cafe in downtown Boston, so named by the original owner, a Hemingway fan. It was a Sunday, I was feeling blah, hoping that coffee and comics would revive me. He quietly slipped into the chair across. I looked up surprised, violated at first, then, recognizing him happy. I had always liked him ever since we met a couple of years back. He had a quiet confidence about him, a confidence that calmed not confronted.

His name was Joe, or so he abbreviated it. His real name was an Indian name, and he evinced no interest in making sure people addressed him by his real name. That had always surprised me considering that his brother Samir hated anyone shortening his name to Sam. Their parents had moved from India to the Boston area when Samir was 8. Apparently Joe was unplanned when he was born in a Lowell hospital. He lived in New York city with his wife and I didn't know much else about him. Although Samir and he seemed close, Samir didn't talk about him much.

I asked him what had brought him to Boston, and he replied that he had come to spend the weekend with his parents.

"She was in New York for a week, but we both came up to Boston last night. She didn't stay with me though, she was staying with my ex-wife and our kids."

"We're having problems", I blurted out. And then, embarrassed, not knowing what else to say. "Well, I suppose no different than most couples. We're trying to work things out."

"It was great the first year. He'd just come out of the closet, and he was very vulnerable. He thought nobody would understand or accept him. I was his sole pillar. But, now everything seems different. He's back to working crazy hours - of course, it's his own company, so I don't blame him. I just wish we could spend more time together, and be..., I don't know, closer."

I continued. "We're going to a counselor." A cloud drifted under the bright autumn sun, darkening the inside of the cafe. I sipped my coffee. "He says he has fantasies about his ex-wife. I sometimes think, he doesn't want to give up on our relationship because it would raise all the questions about his sexual identity again, and he doesn't want to go through the pain of that."

I shifted, uncomfortable. "But..., we're committed to the relationship. We'll get through", I finished.

He sipped his coffee, then nodded and almost to himself, "making marriage work."

He looked at me, then abruptly straightened and put his hands on the table. "Did you know that I am on my third marriage now?"

I shook my head. He continued. "The first time, I was 22. I met her in a Howard Zinn lecture when the US was supporting the Contras in Nicaragua and El Salvador. Her name as Rani and she was very beautiful, even more so when she was outraged. We hit it off instantly, it was magic. We liked to talk in depth about everything, and one day we started talking about marriage. Not because we were thinking about it, but because our close friend was. We both felt the same way about it, about the institution of marriage. Later, when we eventually did marry it was based on what we had agreed on then. We started a social semi-activist organization called 'Making Marriage Work'. And we're still active in it. Both my other wives are part of it, and believe it or not, we're all one big happy family. Which is why my mother can stay with Rani and our kids. What attracted us to each other will never die and it keeps our relationships vibrant and alive."

"But...I don't understand. How can your marriages have worked if you're on your third?" Then, not meaning to offend, I added: "I am not implying you didn't try or that it isn't hard or something."

He laughed. "But it isn't hard, and I didn't try. At least I didn't try to stop us from getting unmarried." He stopped, and looked at me with a mysterious smile. "Let me tell you about "Making Marriage Work". It is named tongue-in-cheek It is really less about making the social construct "marriage" work, and more about making people work despite marriage. Every society defines marriage in terms of the permanence of marriage. Have you wondered about that? Which of our other kinds of relationships are permanent. You can walk in and out of jobs. You can even change your relationship to someone from acquaintance to soul-mate and back without society so much as batting an eyelid. You can treat your father as an arrogant bastard, your mother as a stranger, but, break the sacred covenant of marriage, and all hell breaks loose. Well, Rani and I decided that our relationship was too important to sully it with ideas of marriage that come from mainstream society which is too busy to think through the impositions of history and religion. We didn't want a marriage of 19th century vintage. We wanted to create our own based on our own deep-felt convictions. And that's what we did. Our marriage was based on our happiness, not on its permanence, on a heart-felt commitment that we had for each other, not a projection of what that commitment should be like in the future."

During this time, his voice, which was normally soft, had grown louder. A man with suspenders, sitting at a table to the side of us had put down his paper and was listening to us, I was sure. The woman across from him, perhaps his wife, looked very uncomfortable. I turned to Joe and interrupted. "But... why did you break up with her then. It seemed like you had something special."

"I didn't break up with her - we're the best of friends. We changed our relationship from being companions to friends. And nobody around us, from our kids to our parents thought that that was a tragedy. Because that was how we said our marriage was going to be like. No false expectation of permanence that shatters their lives when it is not met. We never took a vow of "till death do us part" - our happiness was the most important thing. If we thought we were going to be happier not living with each other, we would move on.

Hearing this, the man with suspenders couldn't contain himself. He leaned over. His wife, meanwhile was looking away, even more uncomfortable. "Look, I couldn't help overhearing. I don't want to break in on your private conversation, but I can't help saying that this is exactly the kind of thinking that has led our country into all kinds of problems. Teenage pregnancy, juvenile delinquency, gangs, school shootings, you name it - it is because families don't stay together and no one's home to look after the kids."

Joe turned his chair and pulled it closer to the man. "You think so. You really think if we were given social license to freely get unmarried, there'd be more problems with kids? I don't see that. Kids deal with change much better than you or I could. It is only when you tell them that mommy and daddy are going to live happily ever after, and it turns out to be a big lie, that they get all confused. And, really, can you mandate that people live together? I don't think so. Divorce is going to happen, and when it does, if we make it work for the people involved, their lives are easier, they're able to cope better, and so they'll be able to take care of their kids as well."

Suspenders shook his side from side-to-side and sighed. "Look, mandating no divorce is one thing (and by the way, I don't think we can do that either), but walking out if you're not happy is another completely different thing. Take me and my wife for instance."

He continued, ignoring her plea. "We have problems, sure, who doesn't? But we're not going to walk out on each other. We've been married for six years, we have two kids, and we're committed to each other."

Frank shrugged his shoulders and opened his palms as if to say, "what kind of silly question is this!"

Joe continued. "See, unless you are happy, how can you both be happy. You have to start with that. Your problem (and society's problem) is that you see marriage as something unique - and not a kind of relationship between two people. Do you go for therapy when you and your friend have a falling-out? Or even your live-in girlfriend and you decide to call it quits. Really, what's the big deal about staying together, sticking it out, being a trooper, giving up your happiness to fit in with fostered notions of what a marriage should be?"

Frank was about to respond, then thought better of it, and like a sports fan taking one last look at an interesting game on TV that he has to miss, reluctantly picked up his jacket. "Got to go", he said.

Joe couldn't help himself. "But why? Why does your identity as a married man have to subsume your own."

Frank shrugged his shoulders, shook his head resignedly like Joe wouldn't understand. "Because that is my identity." And left.

Joe was quiet and contemplated this. He turned back to me and asked me, seemingly hypothetically. "Is your identity independent of your relationships, or do your relationships define your identity?"

He continued. "Seems awfully restrictive to me, like your boundaries are already made up and you can't grow."

I answered. "To each is own, I guess. Your definition gives you happiness, just like Frank's gives him his."

That was the question I spent the rest of the day with. That was the question which saw me through that relationship and through that hateful job, both of which I ended.