Other than a few squabbles about bulk buying at Costco, the transition to married life has been thoroughly exhilarating, horizon-broadening, and perfectly natural all at the same time. It’s new, but not weird. It’s an adjustment, but not a tough one. It’s a life change, but one that I welcomed.
After living alone and being on my own for so long, you’d think that marriage would be a total culture shock – and it is – but it’s really not that shocking. Or crazy. It’s kind of normal actually, kind of like I’ve been a wife all my life. Weird.
No, the crazy part of transitioning into marriage was transitioning out of dating, a way of life for me for nearly 50 years.
I was a career dater. I dated all the time, at all times of the day. Breakfast dates, coffee dates, lunch dates, dinner dates, drink dates, even a driving date to the mechanic to pick up my car.
I’ve had blind dates, online dates, chance meetings, dates disguised as business meetings, and one Facebook encounter that would lead to the date of all dates. Thank you Robby Scharf, for ending the longest single streak on record (next to yours of course).
After a long and illustrious dating career – one filled with some triples, a couple of doubles, an occasional home run, and lots of times at bat – I finally and gladly retired. I happily hung up the jersey, emptied out my locker, and said goodbye to the game. I’m using a lot of baseball metaphors here, but you get the point.
I left the business.
I didn’t realize how much work went into being single until I got married. And let’s face it people, dating is like having a second job. I don’t care if you’re a guy or a girl, dating is work.
I didn’t realize how much work went into being single until I got married. And let’s face it people, dating is like having a second job. I don’t care if you’re a guy or a girl, dating is work. Looking good, spending money, getting out there, going to parties, going to the gym, being charming, being social, being “on,” making an effort, making eye contact, strategizing, chatting, flirting, schmoozing, is all very time consuming, not to mention exhausting.
Online dating alone is like a second job. You spend hours managing your sites, then dealing with all the emails, winks, flirts, and instant messages. You have to sort through profiles, respond to inquiries, assess potential prospects, distinguish between the suitors and the posers, coordinate schedules and make plans. Just weeding out the weirdos is work!
So you can imagine when you’re used to doing it 24/7 and all of a sudden you stop. It’s like quitting a job you’ve had all your life. This is why the transition has been so peculiar – I mean, one minute I’m hanging out at Wolfgang’s happy hour with my fellow single girlfriends, the next minute I’m joyfully making my husband a meatloaf.
Two words I never thought I’d say in the same sentence: “husband” and “meatloaf.”
Some feminists might gag at this, but I have also discovered that I love doing his laundry, underwear included. Every time I fold a pair of his boxers, I think: Wow look at me! I’m a wife! And the fact that Robby hasn’t thrown up yet from my cooking must mean I’m doing something right.
Dating might have felt like a second job at times, but I always did it with a smile on my face and a good attitude. The key for me (and for any single person out there) is to not take it too seriously, have fun, and always keep your sense of humor. That way, it won’t feel so much like a job.
And here’s the great news when you’re ready to retire: instead of getting an office party and gold watch, you might just get a diamond ring and a wedding.
Treva Brandon Scharf
Late Blooming Bride