I spent last weekend in the midst of pure certainty in the form of Paula, my friend who is now engaged to a man she fell in love with on the second date.
The weekend was her bachelorette party, a fun-filled Bahamas cruise of six other wonderful women. Throw in a few mojitos, some flashing leis and a lot of giggling and you had a wonderful time.
Wesley and Buttercup knew their love was meant to be.
And Paula just glowed. Not only because she was having a fabulous time with her girlfriends but because she was so certain her future life would be fabulous.
I watched her and wondered: how did she know? She and Paul, her fiance, met at a polo match when they happened to sit at the same table. Two dates later they were both smitten, and even though they lived on opposite ends of the east coast, they started a serious, exclusive relationship. After lots of plane rides and long weekends together, they got engaged. It was full steam ahead, even though he was his ex-wife’s three children (not biologically his) and his mom was a bit of a nutter and they were still both living in different cities. But none of that seemed to matter.
I was in awe of Paula’s conviction.
After we’d disembarked the ship, the two of us were fetching the car from the overpriced parking deck. Alone at last, I asked her: How did she know Paul was worth her time after two short dates? And how did she know he was the one?
“I just knew,” she said, the three most infuriating words a confused single person can hear. “With other men I would be happy and bubbley and say, ‘This is it!’ but there would always be this nagging doubt in the bottom of my stomach. I didn’t have that with Paul.”
She told me how both she and Paul were givers and how she knew she could rely on him to take care of her if she needed him to. She was done dating men who wanted mothers and Paul was definitely independent.
But the clincher was that absence of doubt. I’m envious of that. I want to feel so completely certain of someone that I, a worrier by nature, have no worries about him and how he will love me. It’s a little gross to think of it this way, but it’s the same kind of trust I have in my parents. I know they will always love me and always be there, without judgment or failure. But I feel that way because they have loved me in that pure way for 27 years. You can’t test a man like that.
It’s still nice to see the certainty up close, even though I worry I’ll end up like Louise Rafkin, who wrote this Modern Love column about being 50 years old and still not experiencing that. I don’t want to go through life with a pit always at the bottom of my stomach, a nagging worry that won’t let me go.
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