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[Q&A – Dating] Doesn’t dating serve the same purpose as cohabitation?

The Q: “You called cohabiting a litmus test, like a litmus test is a bad thing. But don’t we do the same thing when we date? We kind of are ‘trying out’ marriage. What’s the huge difference?” -Alexandrea

The A: The short version of my answer is this: If in dating we are “trying out” marriage, we better hope we are dating right. But here’s the long version:

To quote what I wrote in the essay on DevotionalDiva.com that sparked this question, “For (some), cohabitation is a litmus test. If it works, you get married. If it doesn’t, you don’t. Because it’s better to say ‘I’ll love you if…’ instead of ‘I’ll love you despite what’s yet to come…’ For others, cohabitation is like a practice run. If you like it, you commit. If you don’t like it, you call it quits.”

In our culture, dating largely involves rose colored glasses and committing because “I think you’re hot and I kind of want to have sex with you.” Our relationships can live or die by how constantly we’re warm and fuzzy. We live together (until it’s difficult) and sleep together (unless in doing so we learn that achieving sexual compatibility will take work). There is more thought dedicated to text messages you intend to send a guy (based solely on your friends’ answers to questions like “What would YOU think of this phrase if you were him?”) than there is thought dedicated to whether his skills are transferable to, say, parenting.

In our culture (and in my observation) there is no huge difference between why many couples decide to cohabit and why many couples decide to date (and why most couples don’t wait until after the wedding for sex, while we’re at it).

This is a problem.

This is not a problem because it renders chaste daters’ decisions not to cohabit or have sex totally moot (it doesn’t).

It’s a problem because of what it says about how we date.

Alexandrea is right: In dating, we test for stuff. If we didn’t test for some things, I would have married the first guy I dated (and he wore eyeliner, so…*). This is really to say that litmus tests aren’t necessarily bad (i.e., “You can’t save sex for marriage? Then I can’t marry you.”). But our culture tells us to use the wrong methods to test for the wrong stuff.

Our culture says cohabitation and premarital sex are the best tests.

Our culture also says “test for how constantly and consistently you feel warm and fuzzy” instead of for how constantly and consistently he or she does what he or she says he or she’s gonna; “for how easy it is to live together” instead of for how willing and able he or she is to work through conflict; “for how effortless gratification is” instead of for how patient he or she is.

It is good to “test” in dating, but we’ve got to test for the right stuff. When we test for the right stuff, we create a huge (and important) difference between cohabiting and dating.

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This post is part of an occasional series called Q&A. Click here to read all the posts from it.

*In the event he stumbles upon this, JK. You were a in a band. It was acceptable.

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Thoughts on jealousy.

When I was 20, I sort-of-dated a bassist in a rock band.

From behind merch tables in crowded church halls, I’d watch him while he’d sign posters with Sharpies and take pictures with fans.

While he made small talk surrounded by flirty girls, I pretended not to feel what I probably usually felt:

Mildly jealous.

To be jealous in the context of dating or marriage is to “feel or show suspicion of unfaithfulness in a relationship.” To express jealousy (implicitly or explicitly) is, in my observation, on a lot of peoples’ unwritten lists of “what not to do when you’re dating.”

This is probably because the phrases “jealous person” and “crazy person” are often unfortunately used interchangeably.

This is probably preventable, especially before you’re married.

Best case scenario is to discuss what is and isn’t appropriate in the eyes of somebody else before you marry him or her. If you think his or her expectations of you are unreasonable, don’t get married.

But what if you’re pretty committed or already married?

If you feel jealous because of something your significant other or spouse does, it could be for one of a couple of reasons: because he or she is being unfaithful, or because you associate what he or she does with unfaithfulness (regardless of whether the two are truly connected).

That you feel what you feel is neutral. It is neither bad nor good. What’s bad or good is what you do with it.

You could harbor your feelings for fear he or she will call you crazy if you express them, or you can communicate with him or her authentically. You could irrationally decide you’re certain what he or she does is indicative of infidelity, or you can tell him or her what happens in your head when he or she does it.

If your significant other or spouse feels jealous because of something you do, it could be for one of the same couple of reasons: because you’re being unfaithful, or because he or she associates what you do with unfaithfulness (regardless of whether the two are truly connected).

If you aren’t being unfaithful, and don’t associate what you do with unfaithfulness, his or her suspicions will probably bother you.

That his or her suspicions bother you is neutral, too. It is neither bad nor good. What’s bad or good is what you do with it.

You could call him or her crazy, or you can respond with respect for and sensitivity to his or her feelings and thoughts. You could refrain from modifying your behavior out of pride or principle (i.e., “I will not stop doing X because X does not mean I am unfaithful.”), or you can patiently work with your him or her (and with a counselor when necessary) to strengthen or rebuild trust regardless of whether what you did warranted a rift.

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Five reasons my mom is awesome.

The babies are me, except for bottom right.
That’s my mom, and – obvs – I am her clone.
As I write in a mildly crowded Starbucks, conversations buzz above Michael Buble and the whir of whatever baristas do behind that counter. It’s Mother’s Day, and while I spent most of it with my mom, I people watch and gather thoughts and have come to the following conclusion:
My mom is awesome.
The reasons for this are infinite. Here are five favorites:
1. My mom holds the bar high. She isn’t a tiger mom, but she always has had an implied set of standards she challenges us to meet. This is not because she likes to see us stretch to reach high bars. This is because she trusts that she and my dad raised us able to reach them, able to endure the discomfort associated with growth. She expects the best out of us, because she wants the best for us, and believes we are capable of growing into the best versions of ourselves.
2. She trusts me. At 18, I would have begged to differ (but at 18, some concepts are harder to grasp than others). As a 27-year-old woman, there are few moments more valuable to me and none better examples of her trust than the ones in which my mom asks for my opinion.
3. She got on the school bus once. Among the worst things that could happen to a kid is to cross paths with a bully on the bus. Among the worst things that could happen to a bully on the bus is to encounter my mom. One morning, the day after I told my mom a fellow student had been bullying me en route to my elementary school, she stood with me at the stop. When the bus arrived, she followed me onto it. I pointed the bully out, and she approached the bully. …Let’s just say the bully never bothered me again.
4. She pays attention. She listens when I talk, and she listens when I don’t. My mom has a knack, made in part of fine tuned intuition and in part of a master’s degree in rehabilitation and mental health counseling (Yes, she has one, too!), for knowing what’s on my mind, even when I can’t find the words to express it. She puts pieces of information together like a puzzle, and solves it even when pieces are missing. This is a fabulous trait for a therapist, and a fabulous trait for a mom.
5. She gives and doesn’t count the cost. I am, however – in my opinion – forever indebted. I could make a list of what she’s given, but it would take up the entire internet (and it would take the rest of my life). I am certain I don’t express as much as I should what I could sum up in two simple words: thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day!
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[Guest Post] Should Catholics only date Catholics?

Guest blogger Anthony Elias and his soon to be wife, Jackie!

When I was enrolled at my evangelical Protestant seminary, I knew it was important for me to date and eventually marry someone who was of the same evangelical (“non-denominational”) Christian faith. Pastor Mark Driscoll had even persuaded me that I needed to find someone who was of a similar evangelical flavor (“it doesn’t make sense to have your wife praying in tongues at the dinner table while you’re trying to cast out her demon.”)

After emotionally leaving the seminary because I wanted to become Catholic, there was no doubt in my mind that if God did not call me to become a priest, I would marry a Catholic. If Jesus Christ and His Church were the most important things in my life, how could I even think about marrying someone who wouldn’t share that same joy with me? CatholicMatch.com sounded like a fantastic idea, and I was beyond blessed to meet Jackie within days of being on the site (she’s the greatest blessing of my entire life and we’re getting married on June 1).

I’ve been surprised to find a different mentality among many faithful Catholics in the pews. Several young women have asked me if I converted to Catholicism because of Jackie and are disappointed when I say no because, they say, “my boyfriend is non-denominational and we’re trying to figure out what we would do with kids and going to church and stuff.” I like to call this the most predictable problem ever. Many seem to think that if cupid points them to someone with good vibes and they “fall in love,” then that person is the one, no matter if he or she is of the same religion or even has a basic belief in God. Others don’t think very hard about the fact that dating can lead to marriage (“I just want to know them a little better,”) and are eventually confronted with “the most predictable problem ever.”

Instead of being a typical overzealous convert and answering the post’s title, “Yes, of course, and no amount of inspiring stories would convince me otherwise,” let’s see what the Catholic Church says. (A caveat: the following is for Catholics who believe that Jesus Christ founded his Church and gave the apostles and their successors the authority to proclaim doctrine and practice. If these are “man-made rules” to you, I would recommend “What’s Your Authority” and other articles about apostolic succession on Catholic.com)

from the Catechism of the Catholic Church

Paragraphs #1633-1637 in the Catholic Catechism address what is called “mixed marriage” and “disparity of cult.” Mixed marriage is a Catholic marrying a non-Catholic Christian, while “disparity of cult” describes a Catholic marrying a non-Christian. As long as the couples are marrying in the Catholic Church and are willing to raise the children in the Church, mixed marriage and disparity of cult are not explicitly forbidden, though disparity of cult is especially discouraged. However, as you can read below, the “difficulties of mixed marriage must not be underestimated,” and the marriage can lead to “religious indifference” (all religions are the same, right? How important is the Eucharist?).

In conclusion, should Catholics only date Catholics? The Catholic Church does not give an unequivocal answer, so I can’t say more than that. However, the Church does say, IT MAY BE A BAD IDEA, THINK HARDER ROMEO, and that’s advice we all could use.

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About the blogger: Anthony Elias writes at www.evangelicaltocatholic.com . Feel free to contact him on Facebook, Twitter, and Google +.

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Commentary on “My Virginity Mistake.”

In a column Sunday on Salon.com, Jessica Ciencin Henriquez – a fabulous writer, as far as I can tell – called her virginity at marriage a mistake. Wedding night sex was not what the church (nor the purity ring she wore) promised it would be.

Neither was her marriage.

Six months into it, Jessica wrote, “the idea of separating seemed more appealing than feigning headaches for the rest of my life.” She saved sex for marriage, “hoping it would ensure a successful marriage. Instead,” she wrote, “it led to my divorce.”

But did it?

I agree with what Jessica implies: the church camp where people preached premarital abstinence at her probably can be blamed in part for the sour start of what would be a short-term marriage.

But I disagree with what else she implies: That saving sex for marriage is a problem.

Excerpts of Jessica’s essay follow in italics, followed by my commentary:

But that ring! Silver and engraved with entwined hearts – everyone I knew was wearing one and I’d finally been given the opportunity to get my hands on it. And it wasn’t just the ring. This was a movement with T-shirts and hats and the added bonus of superiority over kids in school who couldn’t keep their clothes on, those sinners. 

This points to an important, unfortunate truth. Churches long have promoted premarital abstinence by talking about everything except for sex: the perils of unwed parenthood, the stigma associated with sexually transmitted infections, and how much “better” you are for not having sex than the kids who do. This is fear mongering, a lot of shame-based “why not,” and not a lot of genuine “why.” That is a problem.

The morning of my wedding day, I threw up. Everyone assumed that I was nervous about having sex. I wasn’t.

That everybody assumed Jessica barfed because she was anxious about having sex is indicative of a lie our culture tells us: that “the big moment” is what happens in bed on your wedding night, and not on the altar at your wedding. That is a problem.

When I look back on my wedding day, I remember a passionate kiss at the altar. But after rewatching video footage, I see it was little more than a peck on the corner of my mouth and a long hug. Two years of halting wandering hands as they grazed under blue jeans, and the second we have the permission from God, we hug. These are what red flags look like; my rearview mirror is lined with them.

When a church (or a school or a parent) says “wear this ring” and “sign this pledge” and then stops talking about relationships, girls and boys become women and men who basically only know not to have sex. Otherwise, their concepts of marriage and sex are shaped by their friends or media. That is a problem.

This was not lovemaking. There was no bond, no sanctity – this was not the amazing sex I was promised from the pulpit. This was disappointment three to four times a week.

To all people who preach “amazing sex” from pulpits: Please define amazing. The amazing part is not the sex. The amazing part is what’s implied by the fact that you saved it – your patience, your participation in the destruction of self absorption, your willingness to communicate outside (and eventually in) the bedroom. When you don’t define amazing, the assumption is “pleasurable sex will be intuitive and effortless, beginning with our wedding night” when, for most couples, that is so not true. That is a problem.

These problems plus premarital abstinence do not equal exemption from the consequences of these problems. They equal virgins at marriage who experience the consequences of these problems: not knowing the purpose of marriage or sex, more concern with preparedness for the wedding night than with preparedness for marriage, concepts of relationships and sex shaped by the media, and unrealistic expectations.

It is these consequences (among others, of course) that result in divorce, regardless of whether you’ve saved sex for marriage.

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Click here to read Jessica’s essay in full.