I’m an introvert. I’m such an introvert that I chose a career where I spend most of my day, sitting alone, reading books written by people who have been dead for 200 years. Seriously, when I say I am an introvert, I really mean it.
Because I’m an introvert, being around people drains my energy, which causes a problem because everyone wears me out—including my wife. I teach living breathing human beings, which is another challenge. I reenergize by getting away from people, which is nice because I’m alone most of the day. (see paragraph #1)
When we first married, though, I didn’t quite understand that about myself. In fact, I thought that, since I like being around people and being the life of the party, that I was an extrovert.
I found out better when I got married.
My first few weeks as a husband, I would come home from school (after working a full day), and my wife would greet me at the door. Excited. She was very, very excited to see me and talk. Extremely, completely, totally excited.
By contrast, I wanted to go into a room by myself and not utter a word to man nor beast.
She wanted a transcript-ready, minute-by-minute record of my day, and I wanted to read a book. Not even an interesting book, mind you. The phone book would have been sufficient.
But I was married, and I couldn’t ignore her, and she wasn’t to be ignored.
It was at that point that I remember thinking that we weren’t very compatible. It was a fact: we didn’t have much in common. We didn’t share similar hobbies or activities. Our families were different. We hadn’t dated very long, so I didn’t know her very well, and on top of all that, coming home was an effort.
We were a month into this whole thing, and I began to tally the ways we had messed up, all because I couldn’t handle talking to her when I got home. That was the reality. My personality and hers didn’t mesh. We couldn’t relate at the end of the day.
My idea of my marriage was wrecked by the reality. I’m guessing, but the death of that dream probably helped to save our relationship.
In his Christian classic Life Together, Dietrich Bonheoffer describes the danger of holding onto the dream of a Christian community in the face of reality:
He who loves his dream of community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial”
Put in marital terms, when you cling to the marriage of your dreams instead of embracing the reality of who you married, you tend to destroy the relationship.
Here’s why: the dream of a Christian marriage is often one-sided. As a wife, you might dream of a certain kind of intimate conversation, while your husband might be thinking of another kind of intimacy. When you hold onto a personal dream of your marriage, you’re still acting according to your wants, to your desires. You demand a personal future instead of a communal one. If you choose to pursue the dream of your marriage, then you’ve chosen to destroy your marriage—marriage is a communal effort, and it takes more than your dream for success.
So when I told Sunday that I couldn’t handle her welcoming me at the door, ready for a two-hour gabfest, it didn’t go well. At all. She was hurt. She needed that communication. I was hurt because I couldn’t give it.
So we haven’t spoken to each other for fourteen years.
Just kidding.
Actually, you may know people who have chosen to be married like that, living according to how their marriage “should” be instead of the way it really is. It’s rather common, and it’s clear evidence that Bonheoffer was dead right.
Here’s what we did: she gave me fifteen minutes. When I got home, I got fifteen minutes to growl around, take my shoes off, be alone. After that, I needed to be ready for some concentrated communication.
So, eventually, we got what we needed. She needed communication, and she got it. I needed time alone, and I got it. But here’s what we both got: our marriage.
FEATURED CONTRIBUTOR:
Matthew Towles is the Chair of the Department of English and Modern Languages at Liberty University. He and his wife, Sunday, help to lead a marriage ministry at Blue Ridge Community Church in Forest, Virginia.
