For eternity, or so we can assume

I went to Mark and Cori's wedding two weekends ago in the Redlands, CA temple. It was lovely, and they seem happy enough. It was a special and joyous day for both of them, in part, I am sure, because they were joined in the eternal bond of marriage. And also in larger part because it's the first time that either of them has seen me in more than a year. It's enough to make anyone ebullient. Something like that, at least.

The ceremony (using the non-secular term here, for the sake of reverence) itself was inspirational. They always are. To be honest, though, it would have been a little more pleasant for all if Mark hadn't cried like a toddler stripped of his binky. I think we all wanted to walk up and punch him in the arm or put him in time out until he composed himself.

It was nice to see a few old friends and both the families of Mark and Cori again. I have fond memories of all of them, way back from my college days. (You know, way back 13 months ago.) As I watched them and their families and friends interact, I started to think how incredible it is that more marriages don't end in disaster. I don't say this as a cynic whose longest relationship has lasted 3 weeks (with whom, for the sake of this post, will go unacknowledged ...), but as a realist. Or -- how does it go -- a cautious optimist.

There are so many moving parts. Marriage, if it were just between man and woman, would be (is?) terrifying in its own right. You could have done better. It is always true. If we assume otherwise, then we are assuming that we have lived our lives perfectly. If you were more kind, more dedicated, more athletic, more hygienic, you could have married a better woman. But you aren't, so you take what you can get. That will haunt you the rest of your life. And, of course, the same is true of your wife. She could have done better. As it is, you have settled for each other. You are both entering marriage with a somewhat deflated version of your true potential, simply because you are imperfect.

In life, there is such a thing called repentance and agency. So if you have chosen a path that is less than perfect, there is a chance to right yourself. That is your choice. But once you are married, you can't go back. If you have settled for a wife, regardless of how drastic of an upturn you take in your own life, you can't change who you have married unless she changes into a better person as well. (For the sake of this argument, of course, divorce is not an option.) This is not true of anything in life anymore except for marriage. Career paths constantly change, we cycle through friends and lifestyles and cars, but that ring is one eternal round. That always sounds so ominous, like swimming towards the surface and never being able to reach the top. One eternal round indeed.

And then come each of your families, and that has to be a mess. No one likes their in-laws, for whatever reason, and the inlaws know that their children could have done better. Parents hate to see their children settle, or so I would assume. That's how it worked out, at least, in The Fiddler on the Roof. Siblings are all over the place, aunts, uncles, pets. If I took a girl home and Winston didn't like her, it's over, no questions asked. (Yes, I trust my dog's instincts over my own.)

Beyond the actual people involved are each of their distinct eccentricities. I would live in Seattle, but not Portland. I eat peanut M&Ms individually, but chocolate M&Ms 3 at a time. Does that make sense? No. But what if, 7 years into our marriage, I find out the opposite is true of my wife. All of a sudden everything is upended. I'm not sure if we could work it out with such differences between us. I know there have been rumors of compromise in marriages, but it seems like a more-pronounced form of settling.

It is like unboxing a puzzle, throwing it on the table, and hoping that all the pieces fall into place. There are too many variables. It will never work.

In the end, I find it miraculous that divorce rates and uxoricide rates are as low as they are. (Uxoricide means the murder of your wife. I had to look that up, so if you are ever browsing through my search history, don't be worried when you see things life "Kill my wife," "Spouse murder," "Spousicide," etc.) To all those of you who are married or to those of you who have had a relationship that has lasted for more than 3 weeks, I tip my hat.