Kiss a lot of people before marrying
I’m a proud Québécoise (a French-speaking Canadian from the province of Quebec)— not because of inherited patriotism or unexamined loyalty, but because I’ve traveled to over 30 countries. I’ve explored and compared widely enough to recognize Quebec’s unique strengths. My attachment isn’t blind; it’s chosen.
James Marcia would call that identity achievement — a status you reach after you’ve explored your options and made a conscious, informed commitment.
And I think the same applies to love. When you explore before committing — emotionally, relationally, even sexually — you give yourself the chance to choose your partner with clarity. Not because it’s the only person you’ve ever been with, but because it’s the one who still makes sense after you’ve looked around.
Why I Encourage Exploration Before Commitment (and What James Marcia Has to Do With It)
It’s not uncommon for clients to come into my office—years into a relationship or marriage—and confess something quietly:
“I love my partner… but sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to explore more before settling down.”
They’re not necessarily unhappy. But they carry this lingering what if, and it can gnaw at the edges of even the most stable relationship. That’s why I encourage something that might sound counterintuitive in a world that glorifies early commitment and "finding the one":
Explore.
Not recklessly. Not endlessly. But intentionally.
And I’m not just speaking from personal experience. Psychological theory backs this up.
Meet James Marcia: The Identity Researcher You Didn’t Know You Needed
In the 1960s, psychologist James Marcia expanded on Erik Erikson’s theory of psychosocial development and proposed something called the Identity Status Theory—a framework that helps us understand how people form their sense of self.
According to Marcia, there are four identity statuses, based on two key processes: exploration (have you questioned and tried different options?) and commitment (have you made choices you stand by?).
Here’s a breakdown:
Identity Diffusion
No exploration, no commitment.
You’re drifting. You haven’t explored, but you also haven’t chosen. This often looks like people who avoid thinking too deeply about who they are or what they want in love, sex, or life.Foreclosure
Commitment without exploration.
You commit without ever really asking yourself if this is right for you. You follow the script—family expectations, religious values, “shoulds.” This is where many early marriages land. And it’s a breeding ground for later regret.Moratorium
Exploration without commitment.
You’re in the thick of it—dating different people, reflecting, experimenting with values, beliefs, and identities. It’s messy. Sometimes confusing. But necessary.Identity Achievement
You’ve explored, and now you’ve chosen.
This is the gold standard. You’ve tried things, questioned everything, and made decisions based on what’s actually true for you—not what’s convenient or expected. People in this status are less likely to self-sabotage later, less likely to romanticize “what could’ve been.”
How This Applies to Love, Dating, and Marriage
Too many people try to skip the moratorium phase. They go straight from diffusion or foreclosure into commitment—getting married or settling into serious relationships before they’ve really asked:
Who am I when I’m not trying to be chosen?
What kind of sex, intimacy, or emotional connection do I want?
What kind of partner do I want to be—not just what kind of partner I want to have?
And that’s when doubt creeps in. Not because your partner is wrong for you, but because you never gave yourself the chance to become who you really are before choosing them.
Exploration doesn’t mean sleeping with 100 people or living in chaos. It means giving yourself full permission to be curious, to date with intention, and to learn your own patterns before entangling your life with someone else’s.
My Point?
When you’ve explored deeply, you don’t fantasize about lives you never lived.
Let’s take myself as an example : I’m not wondering what’s out there (except my soulmate lol), because I’ve already looked. I don’t have the travel bug anymore — not because I lost my sense of adventure, but because I scratched the itch. I’m not curious about what it feels like to be picked up at a bar, because I’ve lived that chapter in my twenties. When I eventually tie the knot, I won’t be wondering what another man tastes like, because I’ve already had the experiences that once intrigued me.
I’ve explored enough to understand what drives the craving — the ego boost, the thrill, the chase/being chased, the validation — and to know it no longer holds power over me. That kind of curiosity doesn’t linger when you’ve faced it head-on. It settles when it’s been seen, felt, and fully lived.
So when you’ve questioned everything, your commitment feels earned—not imposed.
When you’ve tried and failed and tried again, you walk into marriage with fewer blind spots.
And that, to me, is one of the greatest gifts you can bring into a long-term relationship: certainty not born from fantasy, but from experience.
“After all, declaring margarita as your favorite pizza topping without ever trying other toppings isn’t loyalty — it might be limited data.”
So if you’re in a phase of life where commitment is on the horizon — or already here — consider asking yourself:
Have I explored enough to truly know what I want — and what I don’t?
Am I choosing this relationship because it’s aligned with my values, or because it’s familiar and available?
What curiosities or urges still whisper to me — and have I made peace with them?
Do I feel like I’m missing out, or do I feel like I’ve completed something?
If temptation came knocking, would it awaken desire — or just echo an old version of me I’ve already outgrown?
Is my commitment rooted in fear, duty, or true clarity?
I saw a quote on Instagram today by Alex Hormozi that said:
“When you get married, you trade novelty for loyalty, exploration for trust, and the chase for a journey.”
And I found myself nodding — but with a caveat.
Yes, that trade makes sense… when you’ve had enough novelty, enough exploration, and when the thrill of the chase no longer leaves you hungry.
Because the goal isn’t to have tried everything.
It’s to have tried enough — that your choice isn’t haunted by “what if,” but grounded in “this is it.”
P.S. I fully acknowledge the huge bias I bring to this perspective — shaped by my personality, my past, and how I was raised. Some people don’t need extensive exploration to feel secure in their choices. Many are genuinely happy with their high school sweetheart, having never dated anyone else.
To be clear: I’m not judging that path — if you’re happy, I’m happy for you ♥️
I’m simply offering a lens that some people miss when reflecting on their own journey. A reminder that for others, exploration isn’t indulgent — it’s clarifying.
Wishing you a love that feels chosen — not defaulted ;)
– Kanica
Version française