Some "just know" they've found the right person.Others walk down the aisle with profound doubts By Rachel GreenwaldTango magazine Updated: Oct 6, 2007

I was in college the night I met him. And even afterall these years, the thing I remember most is theunexpected, very physical shiver that immediately ranup my spine when he looked at me. He's It, that shiversaid. We talked, we flirted, we had our first date twodays later. I fell hard. I loved that he was sweet,but not saccharine. I loved that he was Jewish, butnot too Jewish. I loved that he was a fan of HotTamales, the candy I ate by the truckload back then.And (OK, call me shallow) I loved that he was an IvyLeague graduate.

Our odds were good: I was 20, he was 23, and we addedup to the perfect couple. Except that after threeyears, as I was busy trying to drop the subtle hintthat my ring size was 6 3/4, he was busy cheating onme. I found out, we broke up, and let's just say thenext six months weren't pretty.

I'm still not sure what got to me the most: therejection or the fact that I had truly believed, in mygut, that my boyfriend was The One. So if that firstshiver, followed by a fabulous three-yearrelationship, wasn't the telltale sign, how doesanyone ever know who's right for them in the long run?Apparently, I'm not the only person who has struggledwith this question. It came up again last summer, atmy client Amy's wedding. I was seated at the "singlestable," since brides often like to treat theirunattached friends to my dating advice. The woman nextto me leaned over and whispered, "When Amy met Kurt,she told me she just knew it was right. When will Iever feel that way?"

Coached thousands of singles I knew the answer she wanted to hear. By now I'vecoached thousands of singles on how to find love, andwatched hundreds of clients and friends trot down theaisle. But what I wanted to tell her was, "Maybenever."

It wasn't that I didn't believe this woman would everfind the right guy. It was more that I feared she might never know he was the right guy she might never know he was the right guy. An hourearlier, sitting in the church, it struck me that whatI was really witnessing was a crapshoot. Here was thiscouple at the altar, pledging their lives to eachother. And as happy as I was for them, I knew thetruth: When you get married, all you can really do isroll the dice and hope for the best.

But everywhere I go, I meet smug married couples wholove to relate the moment they "just knew" they'dfound their life partners. As far as I'm concerned,it's revisionist history; if the marriage in questionhas worked out so far, they say they acted on theirrock-solid gut. But if it ended in divorce, theyconfess to earlier doubts.

To be frank, I don't believe anyone can really knowthis kind of information for sure -- and I speak notjust from my college relationship, or from all myyears as a dating coach, but from reflecting back onmy own 1992 wedding. My jitters were epic, the kindthat had my friends speculating on how long mymarriage would last and the caterer reminding mymother that the deposit was strictly non-refundable.

My smile was strained

An hour before my ceremony, I nearly collapsed. As thephotographer snapped pictures, my smile was strained;I was terrified. My fiance, Brad, and I had dated fortwo years and been engaged for one. We knew each otherwell. But did we know what the future would hold forus? Of course not. "So let me get this straight," mybrain was saying. "I'm supposed to decide today to bewith one person for the rest of my life because, upuntil now, things have been great? Because, so far, Istill love him?" This made no sense. I was tormentedby what everyone had told me for years about marriagein general, and my fiance in particular -- the old"you'll just know" or "trust your gut." Well, thistime, I didn't know, and my gut had a bad stomachache.So naturally, I took the path of any good drama queen:I dropped my bouquet, slumped into a nearby chair, andburst into tears.

Brad rushed over and shooed away the photographer.While he was aware that I'd had many doubts during the past year, he had none.My own hesitations, on the other hand, were quiteserious; I'd even harbored a crush on another manduring my engagement year. I'd confessed everything toBrad -- I did love him, after all, and wanted ourrelationship to be honest. But we were so different --opposites in too many ways. (More than one friend hadobserved that we were a lot like that Green Acrescouple from the '70s: I was "Gimme Park Avenue" and hewas "Farm Livin' Is the Life for Me.")
How could it work, I wondered, when reality wouldinevitably come knocking? We loved each other -- alot, as it turned out. But what sane person couldbelieve that love alone would pass the test of time,particularly when 50 percent of today's marriages endin divorce?

So there I was: big white dress, mascara running. "Howcan I say 'forever'?" I sobbed. "It's too long tocommit to!" Brad took my hand. "How about this," hesaid gently, not even remotely offended. "Can youcommit to being with me for one year?""Of course," I said, sniffling."That's easy, but -- "

Ask you if you want to renew

He interrupted me. "Then let's take it one year at atime. Publicly, we'll say our vows, 'until death do uspart.' But privately, we'll have our own littlearrangement. Each year on our anniversary, I'll askyou if you want to renew. We'll do this a year at atime. Can you do that?" Overwhelmed by the generosityof his answer, I said that I could. And I did.These days, my job is to help single men and womenfind the right mate -- and it's never simple. No oneis perfect. Everyone has baggage. And when they're inthat last stage of dating, trying to decide whether ornot to make it permanent, my clients usually ask formy opinion. Do I think they should marry this one?Sometimes I say yes, sometimes no. But the truth is, Ihave no idea. Making that decision is like skydiving:It's a crazy thing to do if you think about itlogically, but you pray that the ride down will beexhilarating and that you'll land on your feet. And inmy experience, people take that leap of faith withnaive confidence.

Of course, some factors do seem to improve the odds--especially age. I see fewer unhappy couples amongthose who get married later in life, specificallyafter 35. This is largely because they're making thedecision to marry with more life experience undertheir belts. They're also committing to a fully formedperson. Next comes personality. I've observed that oppositeswho complement each other often do very well. If youmarry someone who's too similar -- especiallyemotionally -- you may wind up bored or in conflict. Try not to be judgmental Finally, try not to be judgmental right out of thegate. I often find that my clients have checklistsfounded on external, and not internal, traits. Whyeliminate a potentially terrific guy because he's afew inches shorter than you'd ideally prefer? As ageneral rule, rigidity never pays.But -- and wouldn't love be easier if this weren't thecase? -- it's different for everyone. Back at thatsingles' table, I was immersed, as usual, inconversation about dating and marriage. Everyonewanted to be a Knower. I lost track of the times Iheard the words "The One," "Soul Mate," and "Mr.Right." I realized that the vocabulary these womenused assumed that there was one right answer, and thatthe answer would be obvious when it arrived. I wantedto tell them -- but didn't -- that it's OK if theydon't "just know," or if "Mr. Right" is "Mr.Probably." Sometimes a marriage can be stronger if youhave reservations. If your bond seems a littlefragile, you take better care to preserve it.The irony is not lost on me that my greatest fear --committing to someone forever -- became the focus ofmy profession. But I like to think I was meant tospread the word that it's OK to have doubts -- evenprofound doubts -- before saying "I do." And, as myown 14th wedding anniversary approaches, I know Brad'squestion will come once again.Which brings me to thelovely part of this story: So far, things have workedout beautifully. Don't ask me how. He's really flexible; I'm reallynot. I'm perceptive. Him? Not so much. But in a fewweeks, when he asks me if I want to renew my vows foranother year, I just know what my answer will be.