As of last week, I have been married for seven months. Since April 12th, I’ve changed my name, moved from the East Coast to the West Coast, left behind my job, graduated with an MS, moved out of my parents’ home and into an apartment, and started writing again. Not that I ever really stopped.

the difference between dating and marriage

The pain and pleasure cycles of dating are far more dramatic than those of marriage. Pleasure is a given, as is occasional pain. But the pain is not “I miss him so much it hurts” when he leaves for an hour as it was before, while dating, when he left for a month. The pain is unfortunately deeper: the pain of marriage is that it exposes all of my original pain and unhealed wounds. Suddenly all of my ghosts rear their heads in the safety of his loving arms. All of my insecurities, traumas, deepest fears, limiting beliefs and regrets arise, beckoning me to notice them. More on this later.

The pleasure is not “I love him so much, I’ve finally found something amazing” anymore. The pleasure is, “I’m so thankful to have someone who deeply cares for me every single day;” the pleasure is emotional safety and security. Emotional safety can absolutely be present in dating, but without a sense of permanence to the relationship, security is missing. Even though marriages can and do end, the vows we made to love each other forever hold far more weight than anything said or done in dating. Marriage will always be more secure a container than dating. That being said…

Hedonic adaptation applies in marriage just as much as in dating. Dating is far, far more dramatic and emotional than marriage. Dating is unstable by nature. It is unreliable and unpredictable. Marriage is the opposite. It is reliable, predictable, dependable, and secure. Mostly.

What makes it so great also sometimes makes it boring. Romance feeds on variability and uncertainty, not necessarily in a negative way, but the low lows of dating (separation, yearning, uncertainty about a romantic future together) are what reinforce the high highs of romantic pleasure (reunion, desire fulfilled, expectation of future commitment). 

What is still true from dating is: the less time we spend together, the more romantic and precious the time we are together feels. This is breeding ground for romance; it is in the tension that separation creates. The separation can become exhausting, however, which may strain the relationship. Before we married, and even after we married, the separation became exhausting because we lived so far apart. Now, there is much less separation and also less tension. He leaves for work and I know I’ll see him again after 5. Predictable, yes. Secure, yes.

looking in the mirror

There is a difference in my response to quarrels, too. In dating, I was determined that we would get through anything no matter what. But I knew that if there was anything that disturbed me too much, I could leave and never look back. In marriage I don’t have the same mental safety net. Sometimes that is scary, because what feels safe and secure sometimes also feels like a trap. Even though I don’t want to leave, leaving not being an easy option anymore is scary. No matter how wonderful a person is you truly never know what the future holds. And, as I said before, my fears are rearing their ugly heads in the security of the relationship, and part of me still wants to avoid facing them, which I could easily do if I was single. Ultimately, the best way forward is to be aware of the risks and look in the mirror; your spouse is the mirror you need to really know and help yourself.

The closeness is sometimes hard to manage, because it is uncomfortable to constantly face your wounding reflected in another person. This is probably why people advise taking long road trips together before marriage, to “test” your commitment to the relationship in the face of discomfort. The thing is, people are wrong about that. Because the discomfort doesn’t come when you and your beloved experience normal emotions like exhaustion and frustration. The discomfort comes when the relationship is so secure that your deepest wounds have space to pop up and threaten to ruin it. At least in my experience, all of the what ifs feel safe to appear in the quiet security of married life.

You can never really know if the relationship was the “right choice” for you until you look in the mirror and face yourself in the presence of a safe other. The professional relationship between a therapist and client is just another opportunity for mirroring, as is the relationship between parent and child. Marriage is a mirror that is sometimes hard to look into because what we see isn’t always pleasant. But gazing into the mirror is the only way to true, holistic healing. And, in the mirror of my spouse, I am safe to learn how to love myself more and more every day.

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Special thanks to my husband, Marcus, for inspiring this piece.