To the question “Why do we get married?,” many common reasons are given. We choose someone to (hopefully) spend the rest of our lives with for passion, company, convenience, or to begin a family. But there is one reason I believe far outweighs the rest. A reason far less obvious and to which we may be (as I was) far more oblivious. It was a startling revelation—and it changed everything for me—when this reason popped up on my IG feed, in a reel of a scene from Shall We Dance. 

The 2004 film, starring Richard Gere and Susan Sarandon, centers around John and Beverly Clark, a couple with two children and married for 20 years. Beverly, who suspects her husband might be having an affair, has hired a private investigator (Devine) to follow her husband. In one scene where she meets with Devine for his usual reporting, he asks her, “Why do you think people get married?” And to this, she responds: 

“Because we need a witness to our lives. There’s billions of people on the planet and what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything—the good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things. All of it, all the time, every day. You’re saying, “your life will not go unnoticed, because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed, because I will be your witness.”

AHA

We all have our particular but typical dynamics as couples. We bicker and say abominable things to each other; we can be needy and demanding; we may bore or annoy the heck out of one another. We may even fantasize about or threaten to be with someone else. We can rant and rave to our friends about all the ways we are unhappy with our spouse. But ultimately, these things hold but a teensy consequence in comparison to this one great (unrecognized) role we each hold for our other. To be witness to the fullness of their life experiences—from the minutest to the grandest, and everything in between. 

[Marriage isn’t the only way we feel witnessed in our lives, but it is one so many of us have.]

Night after day, day after night, couples wake up and go to bed, tacitly choosing one another over and over again. Romance may vanish. And tenderness may too. But something so spectacularly valuable endures.

We may ponder what it is we all SO deeply want out of life. Is it to be perfect in every way? Yes but not really. What good is it to really have everything we desire—to be on top of the world and have it all—if not to be shared and witnessed deeply by someone else? What reason do we have to live for, if not to be truly seen. I may go further to include being understood. But this I withhold, as there is much that escapes our understanding and reason even when it is self-love or divine love. So, what it all comes down to may simply be this: we want a witness to our lives. Someone who knows the real us and who can attest to our existence.

In society, we oftentimes keep our true and deeper feelings hidden out of fear of being a burden or being misjudged. And consequently, we may feel devastatingly alone. But letting someone in to be witness to the entirety of our lives means giving ourselves the freedom to be truly known, if only to this one special someone. Letting them see “the real me”, 24-7— beyond our social masquerades or curated personas—is not only incredibly validating, but existentially meaningful.

Fundamentally, who cares that our Lover is not ideal in every way? What really does it matter, their flaws or the hurt they may sometimes cause us? What matters is that they are there. Consistently. They share in our life’s mediocrities and mundanities, and they see our humanity. Their steady presence instills in us a subtle courage and confidence that becomes as intrinsic as our breath. Their witness to our lives gives us a kind of fearlessness—a deep, profound sense of bravery and resolve in moving forward with our lives. 

Only to my therapist can I reveal anything and everything. She’s a sacred box that holds all my secret truths. I can tell her feelings I may have about my husband, and which he might never know. But she—like all our other confidantes—knows me only in spurts and moments in time. Javi, on the other hand, knows me in continuum. 

Marriage—coupledom—may seem an ordinary phenomenon. And so, it’s quite easy to take this sacred miracle for granted. Daily stresses, routines, distractions do get in the way, but if we can keep this deeper perspective in mind, we can make a concerted effort to let our other know: “I see you.”

We play a crucial role in our partner’s lives—powerfully supporting and upholding them in their role as protagonist of their own story. We can be the gentle impulsion they need. To show their true selves and be fearless in their breath. To stumble out from their darkness, as we lend a caring teardrop to their fire. We are here to be their witness, and they ours. And we are here to let them know: 

You’re not alone. I see what you go through, and it matters to me.