What Does It Really Mean to Say “I Choose You”?

I choose you—and I keep choosing you.

Last Sunday, I attended the wedding of my first cousin Suraj.

He stood beside Aayushi, the woman he loves, surrounded by family and friends as they made one of the biggest promises of their lives. There were happy tears, colourful outfits, music, dancing and, as you would expect at an Indian wedding, an abundance of wonderful food.

The Friday before the wedding, both families came together for a joint celebration. The room was full of colour and energy, the music was irresistible and every generation found its way onto the dance floor.

Indian weddings have a magnificence all their own, but their real beauty lies in how they bring people together. They do not simply celebrate two individuals. They celebrate families, friendships, traditions, generations and the sheer joy of human connection.

The gift of a wedding

One part of the ceremony touched me particularly deeply.

Towards the end of a traditional Hindu wedding, the bride and groom bow before their parents and elders to pay their respects and receive their blessings. It is a beautiful reminder that marriage is not only about two people, but also about the generations who came before them and the community that surrounds them.

Watching Suraj and Aayushi took me back to my own wedding day.

After touching my father’s feet and receiving his blessing, I stood up and embraced him. My dad was never particularly comfortable with hugs, especially in public, but on that auspicious day he allowed himself to be held.

My eyes filled with tears in that precious moment.

Almost twenty years after losing him, that brief embrace remains one of my most treasured memories of my late father.

Sometimes we do not realise we are living a memory until years later.

Perhaps that is one of the great gifts of a wedding. It does not simply celebrate the relationship of the couple standing before us; it invites every person present to reflect on how they are loving the people already in their lives.

Three couples, one declaration

Suraj and Aayushi’s wedding was not the only marriage I had been thinking about.

A couple of weeks earlier, on a Saturday morning, I met a young man called Vasyl on the train. As often happens, we began chatting, and he told me he was travelling to marry his fiancée, Oksana, later that day.

Naturally, he was excited, but what struck me most was his calmness. There was a quiet certainty about him, as though he understood that he was travelling not only towards a ceremony, but towards an entirely new chapter of his life.

The previous evening, while watching Wimbledon on a big screen in Portman Square, I had met another lovely couple, Peter and Mariame. We enjoyed an immediate connection, and they told me that they too would be getting married two weeks later—the same weekend as Suraj and Aayushi.

Three couples, each with a different story, but all making the same extraordinary declaration:

I choose you.

It made me wonder why marriage still matters—and how it fits into my ethos of The Connection Revolution.

Many couples today build loving and meaningful lives together without ever marrying. They share homes, responsibilities, children and dreams, and their love is no less genuine because they have not held a wedding.

So what continues to draw people towards marriage?

The more I reflect on it, the more I believe marriage is less about a legal contract and more about making an intention visible:

My life is no longer only about me. I am choosing to build something with you.

A wedding lasts a day

A wedding lasts just a day, but a marriage is created over thousands of ordinary days.

It is built through conversations, disappointments and celebrations. It grows during the moments when two people choose kindness over ego, curiosity over judgement and understanding over the need to be right.

The wedding day may contain the beautiful outfits, music, dancing and photographs, but the real relationship is built afterwards—over breakfast, during long journeys, through difficult seasons and within the conversations that would sometimes be easier to avoid.

Thinking about this inevitably led me back to my own marriage.

At the time, I hoped it would last for the rest of our lives, and when it ended, I wished the story had turned out differently.

Yet time has a remarkable way of changing our perspective.

Looking back now, I can honestly say that I became a better human being through everything I experienced as a result of my marriage ending. I learnt to become more vulnerable, patient and present; to listen rather than immediately search for an answer; and to care less about being right and more about understanding another person’s experience.

When I think about the husband I was then, I have to smile and, if I am honest, cringe a little too.

From Mr Fix It to Mr Present

I was very much Mr Fix It.

Whenever someone I loved had a problem, my instinct was to solve it. I believed that offering advice and solutions was how I showed that I cared. And it had to be my way or the highway!

I sometimes joke that I was less of an equal partner and more of a dictator. I am exaggerating to make the point, but perhaps not by as much as I would like to imagine.

Only later did I understand that people do not always want to be fixed. Often, they simply want to know that we are with them, that we have heard them and that their feelings matter.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can offer another human being is not an answer, but our presence—the willingness to listen with our full attention and without immediately steering the conversation towards a solution.

These days, I would much rather be Mr Present than Mr Fix It.

Do couples really grow apart?

People often say that couples “grow apart”, but I am no longer sure that is quite what happens.

Perhaps people simply continue to grow, but in different ways or towards different horizons. Their priorities shift, the dreams they once shared evolve, and the vision that once united them may gradually become less clear.

One can love someone deeply and yet no longer be in love with them—but perhaps that is a conversation for another article.

What matters, I believe, is that two people keep returning to the life they are creating together.

Who are we becoming?

What kind of life and home do we want to create?

And what difference might we make together that neither of us could make alone?

A shared vision does not mean agreeing on everything or following an unchanging plan. Life will surprise us. People evolve, circumstances change and the future rarely unfolds exactly as expected.

But there is something powerful about continuing to face the same general direction while giving each other the freedom and encouragement to grow as individuals.

Perhaps that is one of the deeper purposes of marriage. It is not simply about finding happiness together, but about creating something together: a loving home, a family, a business, a body of work, a contribution to the community or simply a way of living that brings more kindness into the world.

Becoming the right person

For years, people have asked me whether I believe in soulmates.

I still love the romance of the idea, but over time I have come to believe something even more hopeful.

Rather than spending our lives searching endlessly for the “right person”, perhaps we should devote more energy to becoming the right person.

The strongest relationships are not discovered fully formed. They are created through honesty, curiosity, forgiveness, shared values and countless small acts of care.

They endure not because two people remain exactly as they were when they first met, but because they keep discovering one another—staying curious about who the other person is becoming while allowing themselves to grow too.

Perhaps a soulmate is not someone perfectly designed to complete us, but someone with whom we consciously create a soulmate relationship—someone who sees us clearly, challenges us lovingly and inspires us to become more fully ourselves.

I choose you—and I keep choosing you

My hope for Suraj and Aayushi—and for Vasyl and Oksana, and for Peter and Mariame—is not simply that they enjoy many happy years together.

I hope they continue growing towards the same horizon while allowing one another to flourish. I hope they create something together that neither could have created alone, and that their relationship becomes a source of love, strength and encouragement for everyone fortunate enough to know them.

Above all, my wish for them is simple:

Always be there for one another and truly, truly be present. Listen with curiosity. Resist the temptation to fix when what is really needed is understanding. Keep choosing one another, especially on the ordinary days when there is no music, no dancing and no crowd gathered to witness your love.

Because the wedding day is only the first declaration.

The deeper promise is made quietly, again and again, in all the days that follow.

And perhaps, in the end, that is what love has been asking of us all along.