Family Tradition
J. Kevin Tumlinson

A friend of mine is going through a rough time right now. He just settled a divorce, and the two of them parted ways as amicably as possible, but now he's having trouble settling into “being single.” He's having trouble coping with it.

I got a disturbing call from him this week. He informed me that his purpose in life was to make other people happy, and that without a woman in his life he wasn't “complete.” His identity has become so entangled with the idea of a “nuclear family” that he doesn't know who he is without a wife.

I suppose the reason this bothers me is because I'm kind of a confirmed bachelor. I like being single. My schedule is mine, my fridge is filled with the stuff I like, and my personal hygiene products have no embarrassing effect on me when guests come around. Call me selfish, but I like being able to drink from the milk carton or hog the whole bed.

Don't get me wrong, I would love to be married. And there have been times in my life where I thought I would be, but for whatever reason things just didn't work out. Do I feel like something is missing? Do I feel incomplete?

The short answer? Yes and no. Yes, I feel like there's probably something missing in my life. I don't have someone that I can trade inside jokes with or share a laugh over a crummy movie or argue with about whether I should wear a Hawaiian shirt in public. I'd love to have someone in my life that shares my point of view on TV or books or films. So yeah, I feel like there's something missing – just a little.

But no, I don't feel incomplete. That's the fallacy that a lot of people fall for. You don't have someone who lives in your house and likes to watch the Simpsons with you, but you do have a life. You have your work, your family, your friends, your church and probably a million other things that are uniquely “you.” You have your favorite breakfast cereal and your lucky shirt with the holes in the armpits. You have your cat that loves to jump on the keybadfasdfasd… er, keyboard. You and I, dear single friend, we're complete people even if there's no on in our lives. Are we satisfied? Maybe not so much, but that just makes the whole deal sweeter when you do find someone to share your life with.

My friend, he just hasn't gotten to the point where he's comfortable with himself. In a lot of ways, he was NEVER complete, strictly speaking. Even though he was married and had kids and had a great job, he never knew what kind of person he was. He never got the chance to become familiar with who he is.

There are a lot of people who are happily, ecstatically married who NEVER really had a “single life.” No problem. In fact, bravo! If you fall into that category, you are incredibly blessed. There are, however, a lot of people who are not so happy with their marriages. I think that the problem stems from the fact that they don't know who they are, and they've been trying to define themselves by their relationship.

I've had the chance to observe marriage from the outside for the past eleven years or so. I've observed that there are some common undercurrents in every marriage. One of the elements in every happy marriage I've seen is the fact that there is a certain level of individuality. Each partner has friends and hobbies and interests that may not necessarily be connected to the other. I think that sort of “me time” is pretty important for a healthy relationship, not matter how serious it may be.

One common element in every UNHAPPY marriage I've witnessed is the fact that one partner is trying to change the other. They're unsatisfied with the partner's job, people skills, parenting skills, personal hygiene, or whatever and they are constantly trying to “fix” them. Where can that possibly lead but to a general malaise and unrest? So not only does each individual have to accept who they are, so does their partner. It's tricky, I know, but gee, isn't that what being married is all about? What do I know, I'm single.

Some day I'll join in the grand tradition of starting a family. I'm in no rush. I have plenty to do to keep me busy in the mean time. When I get there, though, I'm under no illusions that it's a walk through a rose garden, full of fluffy clouds and butterflies. I know there are going to be tough times. But that's when it's vital to have that measure of individuality, so you can give each other enough breathing room to recover.

Maybe some day soon there'll be a beautiful Mrs. Tumlinson sitting over me, tsk-tsk-tsking about my use of the phrase “tighter than Spandex on Oprah.” When that day comes, I hope she likes corn dogs.