Whom Not to Marry

Over the years, countless women and men from across the country have shared their personal stories with me. Many of them appear in this book. Though I am most grateful for their generosity, I have chosen not to reveal any names or identifying factors. After all, priests are very good at keeping secrets.

Although the advice in this book is intended for those who have not yet married, but are planning to do so, I have sought the example of happily married couples (most of them, anyway) to add their wisdom to mine.

Though this book is addressed primarily to women, men may, like Ruth in the Old Testament picking up the gleanings left behind by the reapers, pick up any insights that may be helpful to them as they mull over whether to choose a particular woman to be their wife.

One of the reasons this book is aimed primarily at women is that my experience is that women usually take the initiative when it comes to talking about relationships, just as it is usually the wife who takes the initiative when it comes to going to a marriage counselor when a marriage begins to unravel. In a word, women are more open than men to discussing “whom not to marry” and more likely to call off a relationship that bodes ill for a marriage. Ideally, I suppose, if a woman finds a relationship becoming problematic, she might persuade her significant other to discuss the contents of this book with her!

Hollywood says that if you are deeply in love with someone, your marriage to that person will work. But in my experience, you can be deeply in love with someone to whom you cannot be successfully married.

Romance is a matter of feelings, or emotions, and they’re not always the most reliable guides to the truth of a situation. In the courtship phase, the falling-in-love phase, all is bliss: the beloved can do no wrong and you can never have enough of each other’s company. You’re his Pooh Bear and he’s your Love Bug. You forgive those late nights spent with his old college roommate. And when your phone bill goes through the roof you really do believe that “love conquers all.”

It doesn’t.

A love affair may lead to marriage, but love by itself cannot make a marriage work. When you’re in a new relationship, in those first heady days of romance, the man you are dating may very well be a candlelit-dinners-and-long-walks-on-the-beach version of himself. That’s not to say he’s not being authentic; he’s just putting his best self forward to impress you. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re probably doing the same. (When is the last time you showed up for a date in sweatpants and sneakers?)

A love affair is all about better and best—that is to say, each date seems better than the last, and of course you’re both showing your best selves. Marriage, on the other hand, accepts the reality of for better or worse. It’s an important distinction to make.

Joseph Campbell may have said it best: “Marriage is not a love affair. A love affair is a totally different thing. A marriage is a commitment…a love affair isn’t that. That is a relationship of pleasure, and when it gets to be unpleasurable, it’s off. But a marriage is a life commitment, and a life commitment means the prime concern of your life. If marriage is not the prime concern, you are not married.”

Infatuation trumps judgment, that much I know. Once people have fallen in love, it’s hard to get them to think rationally about marriage, to think coolly about the years ahead. I know this sounds rather unromantic, but it’s important to think about marriage not just with an open heart, but with open eyes, too. Love may be blind, but marriage is like a trip to the optometrist’s office.

The truth is, I do does not always lead to happily ever after.

The statistics on divorce are depressing. More depressing are the countless unhappy marriages that statistics fail to take into account. But as random as life—and marriage—can seem, there are many things you can do to make sure your life partner is the right one. It all starts with being honest with yourself.

Take my word for it.

For more than half a century, I have officiated at, on average, five weddings a year, or over two hundred weddings. That’s a lot of wedding cake.

Each wedding has its own story, of course, and each couple is unique. Yet I’m constantly amazed that things don’t go wrong more often. I remember officiating at a ceremony when I asked the bride, “Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

She thought for a while and then said coolly, “No.”

That was the end of that.

A couple of years ago in New Jersey, I was at a wedding reception when a full-scale brawl broke out between the members of the groom’s family and the members of the bride’s. Names were called. Punches were thrown. Tears were shed. All the drama, of course, was lovingly captured on video. Nevertheless, the marriage turned out to be a happy one—though I don’t imagine the happy couple looked too often at the video of the reception.

At another wedding, the bridesmaids were sedately proceeding down the aisle toward me, when the maid of honor stepped her foot through her gorgeous gown. The tearing of fabric echoed through the church, closely followed by a colorful word that destroyed for a while the solemnity of the occasion.

Perhaps there has been a colorful word or two directed at me for daring to offer advice on the subject of marriage. You might be thinking, He’s a priest. He’s never been married, and in that you would be correct. But priests, you should know, never hesitate to offer their opinion on matters they seem to know little about. Sure, I completed a master’s degree in counseling at Fordham University, and have for decades advised couples on every stage of their relationships. Nevertheless, there will always be a practical gap in my experience of marriage. My involvement is limited, after all. (As Goethe would say, “There’s nothing more frightening than the sight of ignorance with spurs on.” Put another way, I may put on my boots, but I’ve never been to the rodeo.)

My own philosophizing about marriage has been directed mainly at those who are beginning to consider it. For over fifty years I have had the privilege of speaking with young women on the subject of whom not to marry. Direct and curious—sometimes blunt!—these women have opened their hearts and minds while bringing me their questions on the subject of marriage and a mate. “What if I don’t like my husband’s family,” they’ll ask me. “Is that going to be a problem?” (“It doesn’t have to be,” I usually respond.) And “Is money really important in a marriage?” (“Yes. Yes. Yes,” to that one!) “My friends don’t respect my boyfriend because he lets me walk all over him.” (“It’s good to have a doormat in the home,” I tell them. “But not if it’s your husband.”) And “What if I love him, but know in my heart he’s no good?” (My answer to this last question is always to run as fast as you can—in the opposite direction.)

Like any teacher, I have learned as much as I have taught. I am grateful to these young women for trusting me with their most personal dreams and desires.

I hope I have been worthy of their trust.

I hope I will be worthy of yours.

About four years ago one of my best friends contacted me and said, “My daughter Margaret is getting married in New York. Would you preside at the wedding?”

“I’d be honored,” I said.

The day arrived, and about ten of us gathered near a pond in Central Park. As the couple prepared to pronounce their vows, a bold New Yorker cried out from the crowd of watchers, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!”

When I heard that admonition, I thought of all those spouses-to-be who ever did, or will, hear their own inner voices crying out, before they pronounced their own vows, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!”

It is for them that I write this book.