The "Hard Questions" Project

I have a confession to make. I am a compulsive over-researcher. When someone asks a random, throw-away question mid-conversation, I whip out my laptop to Google the answer. My notebooks and text message inbox are littered with notes to and from myself, reminders of queries during the day to solve before bed. I always want to know the answer to everything. 99% of this information is useless, and will be pushed out of my brain within a day or two – probably to make room for another obscure fact or statistic – but I still crave the knowledge. I just like to be sure.

There is one section of my life in which being “sure” is impossible. And that is, of course, my personal relationships. When my boyfriend suggested that we start looking at engagement rings, my research obsession hit new heights. I combed every website and catalogue available, exhausting Google searches and searching all the malls and boutiques in the tri-state area. It took me six months (and his giving me a deadline) to figure out that the “perfect” ring I was looking for didn't exist – we had to go custom. As you've probably guessed, this quest to find the perfect ring is a not-so-subtle attempt to cover up a fear of life-long commitment. Because, as a person who needs to be sure, this idea is terrifying.

Let me say, first and foremost, that this has nothing to do with the man in question. Brett, who I met a little over two and a half years ago through our dating roommates (who are still happily together) is by far the most wonderful human being that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Turning 23 in two weeks, he is currently working for New York Life and Allstate, diving into his career with a passion and determination that would make any mother proud. He is unusually sensitive and patient, a welcome vacation from my sarcasm and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants lifestyle. He somehow houses the perfect mixture of goofiness and reliability, and keeps me laughing and active every single day. He has an inherent need to protect and take care of the people he loves, which works well because I am constantly teetering on the dangerous and irresponsible. He doesn't drink, smoke, or gamble – in fact, his main weaknesses are golf, Disney movies, and a good steak. My mother adores him. My cats adore him. And in case you haven't guessed, I adore him.

We, of course, have our issues. In my everyday form, I am literally a tornado – exploring, questioning, and upturning everything in my path. I am constantly talking, misplacing things, making odd sounds and laughing too loudly for my environment. In rare form, you can mix in a heavy dose of anxiety and obscene language. Brett is, on the other hand, unendingly calm and collected. He is neat, polite, and unflappable. He has an uncanny ability to answer my questions before I have even asked them, and I have rarely mumbled “Where did I leave my keys again?” without receiving a detailed answer like “Under the left couch cushion next to two dimes and a Fruit Roll-Up from February.” Brett has a very mild form of tourette's (one of many neurological disorders grossly misrepresented by the media; if you'd like to know more actual information about tourette's try an informational website like this), which barely effects his everyday life, but does show in physical and verbal tics. Like about 60% of people with tourette's, he also suffers from some form of obsessive compulsive disorder (more information available here), although his is extremely manageable. He lives a clean, calm, and simple life, and loves the certainty of order. Yet somehow, he loves me as well.

No matter how strong and stable a feeling may be, the serial questioner cannot feel comfortable with any decision that stretches beyond the horizon. What if something changes? What if someone changes? What if...? Despite being sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have found my soulmate, I still cannot bring myself to be sure about a decision that lasts forever, simply because of my own sometimes ridiculous spontaneity. I find myself Google-ing pointless facts like average age of US weddings, divorce rates of couples surnamed Fields, complications within inter-faith relationships. Somewhere along these emotional wanderings, I stumbled upon Susan Piver's book, The Hard Questions: 100 Essential Questions to Ask Before You Say “I Do”.

I don't really hold an opinion about “self-help” books. For those that they help, they are a wonderful tool, but they generally aren't gripping enough to keep me interested. It is a section I generally cruise past in the bookstore without blinking. But I decided to check Hard Questions out, hoping that it would give my laptop a rest for a bit. And I was pleasantly rewarded.

In the introduction, Piver delves into the doubt that she felt when her husband proposed. “Wasn't I meant to be an adventurer, a seeker of truth, a lover of men, a captain of industry, all in this lifetime? How could these things mesh with being a wife? How could I follow my heart and soul and still guarantee to love this one, single, solitary man, with all his uniquely glorious, utterly divine, loveable ways and his awful, hateful qualities? For all his wonder, he still had only one brain. One spirit. One body. Would they do? For life?” In this paragraph, I found a perfect reflection of myself. The idea of getting married suddenly makes me think, “But now I'll never be able to move to Utah and live alone in a cave for six months to discover myself!” I, of course, have never wanted to do such a thing. But still. A ring on my finger means that I can't, if I decide I want to. Right?

Piver goes on to describe how her husband reacted. “I made some speech about how he could never expect me to be a traditional wife, about my commitment to independence and refusal to conform to any external rule of behavior. He listened with complete openness and then, in response, gave me a little box shaped like a heart. Inside it were a rock and a feather. Duncan told me, 'The rock is me. You are the feather. Fly. Let me be constant and steady. Let's hold it all in one heart. Let us balance each other.'” The moment was an exact description of every serious talk about the future that Brett and I have ever had. I'm twittering in circles, a bird scattering feathers around the room, while he sits calmly and listens. When I'm finished embarrassing myself, he says something wise that covers the issue like a giant, wonderful Band-Aid.

And so I fell for the book. After the introduction, the body is split into nine different chapters: home, money, work, sex, health and food, family, children, community and friends, and spiritual life. Each chapter includes questions that the author believes every couple should discuss openly in order to be happy and healthy. Some questions are simple - “Where is our home? Describe its geographical location” - and others are impossibly complex - “What if one of us is attracted to someone else? Superficially? Deeply?” Each question is a dot with a number next to it. When the book is completed, all of the dots connected, the reader is face to face with the image of their relationship.

“I realized that there was a third presence in our relationship, that it wasn't just he and I, and that this entity was the thing that could cause our marriage to fail – not any lack of love, passion, or agreement about what the marriage commitment should be. This entity? Our life together.”

Because he would do just about anything to make me happy and because he is incredibly sensitive to my neurosis, Brett and I have decided to tackle the “100 Essential Questions to Ask Before You Say 'I Do'.” He is working in Toledo this summer and I am in Pittsburgh, so we are attempting this relationship overhaul by email. Although we talk on the phone multiple times per day, this way we each have time to think through (and compulsively draft, on this end at least) our answers, and compare them in black and white. We are covering 2 or 3 questions per day, depending on their length and emotional involvement. I don't think that this book will make me sure, like I can be sure that narwhals exist (they do). I'm not expecting to wake up one morning and say "I DO take you to be my husband! I do I do I do!" But I am hoping that it will make my footing a little more stable; that answering the teeny, nook and cranny questions that I would never think of myself will light the way a little bit. I certainly won't let the outcome of this “project” decide the fate of our relationship, but it still feels a little bit like putting my fate in the hands of a book. This may sound crazy to some of you, but the truth is that putting my faith in literature is probably what has gotten me this far in life. And so, putting my fate in the hand so of a book is something I'm sure about, no research necessary.

So, from day four of the project, I'm reporting positive results. Thus far the questions have brought us closer and made us both excited for the life that we are planning together, which will begin when we move into our first apartment in August. It is also reminding me of the reasons that Brett and I drive each other insane. I'm still not sure why he, a self-proclaimed spelling and grammar slacker, would commit to life with a librarian. Maybe he secretly loves the everyday lectures and corrections? I read the introductions/backgrounds over the phone in the morning while I make my lunch (thank goodness for speakerphone), send the questions, then read his responses and answer with my own when I get home from work. It is quite the emotional assembly-line we have going, and I'm intrigued and excited (not to mention nervous) to see what the rest of the book brings.

“Acting lovingly is a highly complex and mysterious thing. It is not a matter of always being sweet and nice. It means being radically honest: with ourselves, with each other, with life, forever, in every moment, and dealing together with the emotions that may arise – be they love, hate, boredom, jealousy, ecstasy, apathy, or any combination thereof – without leaving. Ok, that I could attempt. That I trust. That is a noble endeavor, full of grace. That is worth a lifetime of commitment.”

Edit: For those of you who miss my less personal, more literature related posts, not to worry. I am rounding the last lap of a fantastic little book called Word Freak, which follows the underground lives of professional Scrabble players. A review will come soon. I promise to talk as little about my boyfriend and job as possible.