Never the Groom

I guess I’m what is called a confirmed bachelor. At 58, I have never made it down the aisle to holy, or even pagan, matrimony. I’m somewhat surprised by this. It’s not as if I didn’t have a positive role model for wedded bliss; my parents were married for more than 50 years, until the clause about parting by death went into effect. But for one reason or another, the big “M” just wasn’t in my destiny. And it wasn’t necessarily because of an inability to make the big “C,” as in commitment.

When I was 19, I thought I was in love with an undertaker’s daughter. You might say the relationship was doomed from the start. Although there was talk of marriage, the year was 1968, and my local draft board had other plans for me that effectively ended all such talk, along with the relationship. After the military and a stimulating year in exotic Southeast Asia, I met and really was in love with a woman in college who chased me until she caught me and had me firmly in her grasp. Then she decided she didn’t want me after all. So she ripped the heart out of my chest and stomped on it. At least, that’s the way it felt at the time.

Then, in the late 1970s, I lived with someone for a few years. I guess this was as close as I will ever get to knowing what marriage is really like. We got along well, but eventually our careers took us in different directions. We parted amicably, without the anguish of an official divorce.

In the ’80s, I did manage to become engaged, with a diamond ring and everything. I was hearing the ticking of my “psychological clock” to start a family, but my fiancee was dead set against having children. When I realized we really had little in common, continuing the betrothal seemed senseless. Despite the pain, I still believe ending the relationship was the right thing to do. And since then, I’ve had short and a few long relationships. None, however, led anywhere near an altar.

I’ll admit that as I have gotten older, my standards have changed, or, put another way, I have become more set in my ways. Consequently, it has become harder to let someone into my life to upset those ways. To be fair to myself, though, it also seems that many women’s standards have changed in ways that I find unappealing. But that’s all I’ll say about that.

My chronic bachelorhood used to bother me a lot more. Especially at such times as when I visited an elderly aunt whom I hadn’t seen for many years, and every few minutes, she would repeat in an incredulous little-old-lady voice, “So, you never got married?” Or when my heart would melt seeing an angelic child lovingly held by its daddy. This would be more than offset, however, by frazzled parents dealing with a monster throwing a tantrum in public.

Lately, however, accepting my never-married status has gotten easier, probably because society has made it easier. And this is likely because nearly 30 percent of Americans 15 and older have never tied the knot. Plus, some of my divorced friends help by telling me how smart I am for not having taken the plunge. Nonetheless, I can’t help thinking that being divorced is still more acceptable than never having been married. The former suggests that at least one tried but failed, whereas the latter never tried, ergo, something must be wrong with that person.

So, do I still have any longing to experience nuptial togetherness with someone even at this later stage in my life? Yes and no. As a human being, I desire a close, intimate relationship. And if one led to a place where vows of commitment seemed right, I’d be all for it.

But I’m also a realist. I know that women in my socially acceptable age bracket don’t necessarily feel the need for marriage. Most have already been there and done that. And since children probably wouldn’t be a deciding factor, which many traditionalists say is the primary reason for marriage, then it’s most likely I’ll turn out to be a lifelong, confirmed bachelor. And I’m OK with that.

Karl Ford is an artist living in Beverly. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.