Standards vs. preferences: My dating checklist could’ve made me miss my match

If you had asked me in high school what I was looking for in a future husband, I would have had a lot to say.

He had to be a devout Catholic, of course. But besides that, he needed to be a serious musician, an intellectual (not a jock!), probably not too tall (I’m only 5’1”), a great dancer, and a strong, assertive leader. He had to have all the correct opinions about the Latin Mass, vaccines, homeschooling, and politics.

After a few romantic disappointments in college, though, I started reassessing my somewhat unreasonable combination of preferences. I remember telling my sister, “I think I just want a guy who’s holy, funny, and laid-back.”

Then I met my husband.

We were both attending Thomas Aquinas College, a small Catholic liberal arts school, when we were set up for dorm dates, an event put on by upperclassmen between the men’s and women’s dorms. He’s a foot taller than me, participated in every single intramural sport, and was certainly not the intense “trad” I had once imagined I would get along with.

When I asked him about classical music, he chuckled and said, “I know this isn’t very sophisticated, but I love Tchaikovsky.”

I don’t think we hit any particularly “serious” topics that night, but we had a delightful evening. He was a shy dancer, but he still danced, and he gave me a Ferrero Rocher before he left.

We got to know each other and decided to start dating about six months later. Within two years, we were married, and a year after that, we had our first child.

Cultural backgrounds

At first glance, we had very little in common.

I was mostly homeschooled, a cradle Catholic, somewhat sheltered, and had received a robust education from a young age. He was raised in Brazil and went to public schools, had little interest in literature until his teenage years, and went through an agnostic phase before converting to Catholicism in high school.

But we shared a worldview and enough common experiences to relate to one another. We both had loving, married parents who instilled Christianity in us from a young age, though his are Baptist and mine are Catholic. We both had a strong sense of what a healthy marriage looks like and how parents should love their children.

Our experiences in the faith were different, too. Throughout high school, I attended and was devoted to the Latin Mass; he received much of his formation through an Opus Dei center. We had somewhat different liturgical preferences, but we both had a profound love for Christ, the Church, her sacraments, and her traditions.

In time, we found that our different experiences helped both of us gain a greater appreciation for the universality of the Church.

Our cultural differences have helped us grow, too. My rugged individualism challenges some of the ways he grew up viewing authority and institutions, while his easy-going, romantic culture helps temper some of my more rigid instincts.

Different interests

One of the most obvious differences between my husband and me is our hobbies. I love crafting, cooking, and playing classical violin; he loves soccer, swimming, and guitar.

I had always heard that you should date somebody who shares your interests, and while I think that is true to an extent, it doesn’t mean you have to share all your hobbies.

We both have a deep love of theology, which rooted many of our conversations, and as we shared the same major, we often discussed our class materials. But our other interests have rounded each other out. He learned Irish guitar so he could play duets with me while I fiddle; I learned Bossa Nova music on the violin. He got into ballroom dancing because of me, and I started swimming because of him.

We also share a love of other people and are both service-oriented. (My high school self, who thought she needed an introvert, would be shocked!) We love social events, volunteering, and small talk, and we spent many an hour bonding over babysitting our professors’ kids and getting to know the locals in our college town.

Rather than our differences preventing us from sharing a life, they gave us more ways to share one. 

Calm, competent leadership

I think the funniest part of falling in love with my husband is realizing that I had no idea who I was compatible with because I didn’t truly know myself.

I knew I was fiery, emotional, and opinionated. But somehow, I hadn’t realized that what I needed was a calm anchor, not somebody equally feisty.

If somebody asks me my opinion on something, I usually have an answer — and a strong one at that. If you ask my husband his opinion on something, he’ll often tell you that he has to think about it more. Then he’ll start asking questions, trying to understand your perspective.

He has taught me to take more time in forming my convictions, to listen to others, and to humbly receive correction.

I’m also impulsive and very action-oriented. My husband, meanwhile, takes time to craft a detailed plan before embarking on something. When we were wedding planning, he would start laughing when I rushed to make a decision just to please people, reminding me that we still had time to research our options.

These qualities showed me a model of leadership I hadn’t appreciated before. I had assumed that leadership was always loud, visible, and fast-paced. My husband showed me that masculine leadership can also be calm, peaceful, patient, and detail-oriented.

And perhaps more importantly, I learned that the person who complements you isn’t necessarily the person who behaves the most like you.

Don’t be too strict with your list

It’s good to have standards, and it’s important to know your non-negotiables. But falling in love is a funny thing, and in my case, it showed me that many of my preferences were just that: preferences.

I’m now married to the love of my life with a happy, growing family. But what if I had written him off because he wasn’t “trad” enough? Because he loved sports? Because he grew up in a different country? Because he didn’t fit the picture I had created in my head?

There is a difference between knowing what truly matters and demanding that someone fit every detail of an imagined ideal.

So have your list, but don’t cling to it too tightly.

Let yourself be surprised. Let another person challenge your assumptions and expose the parts of yourself you didn’t know needed to grow. Sometimes the person who God puts in our lives doesn’t fit our expectations because He knows us better than we know ourselves.

After all, God knows whom we are going to marry — and He knows what we need even more than we do.