Marriage of Convenience: Between Paperwork and Mutual Affection

Author Doberman Media, Mark Planovo, spoke about the complex, uncomfortable, and often overlooked aspects of life as an emigrant. He wrote about love without illusions, relationships where emotions clash with paperwork, and the choice between inner honesty and outward stability. This is a personal story about doubts, physicality, vulnerability, and attempts to understand oneself in a world where security sometimes takes precedence over feelings.

✦ This article is published as written by the author. The opinions, assessments, and conclusions expressed in the text are those of the author and may not reflect the position of the Doberman.media editorial board. The editorial board is not responsible for the author’s interpretations, statements, or conclusions.

He wants me to marry him. Not sometime in the future, but specifically and quickly: a residence permit, a passport, stability, a life without constantly waiting for the government to make decisions. We’ve only been together for a month, and his desire to rush the marriage under the pretext of helping me with my paperwork only deepens my doubts. It’s logical, rational, almost caring—and I understand that. But there’s something missing from this proposal: love. Mutual love.

I can tell he loves me. His care shows in the little things: he cooks for me, asks how my trip home went, asks how I want to spend my birthday, and takes me out to restaurants. These actions show he cares and wants to make me happy, but for me, that’s not enough. There’s affection, there’s comfort, and sometimes even physical intimacy brings pleasure. But there’s nothing that makes my heart race; there’s no mutual passion, no “butterflies.”

This is especially intense during sex. Sometimes we’re on the couch: kissing, cuddling, some light foreplay. He fucks me doggy-style—and physically, it feels absolutely amazing; my whole body is in ecstasy—but mentally, I’m somewhere else. Sometimes I want someone else, someone with whom the emotions and mutual connection are stronger. This contrast between physical pleasure and the lack of an emotional connection makes the situation painfully clear.

And all of this is accompanied by constant self-doubt. I understand that, from a rational point of view, this union is beneficial. It offers stability, peace of mind regarding paperwork, and a chance at a normal life in a new country. It’s almost like a marriage from centuries past: a marriage of convenience, where feelings take a back seat. But can I live like this? Spend a year, two years, ten years with someone I don’t love, just for the sake of security and official status?

My friends are also divided in their opinions. Some say: "Take it while you still can. It's practical, reliable, and the paperwork is important." Others, however, ask a direct question: "Why would you want someone you don't love? It's torture for you, and it's just playing with that man's feelings.". These voices give us pause for thought and intensify the inner dialogue, where the mind argues with the heart, and a sense of responsibility for someone else’s love clashes with the desire to be true to oneself.

Documents, residence permits, passports—all of this is part of the reality of emigration. I know that for many readers in a similar situation, this is a familiar dilemma: how not to get lost in the choice between personal freedom, genuine feelings, and the stability offered by bureaucracy. There is no right answer here. You can live with someone for the sake of official status and feel settled, but inwardly empty. Or you can wait for “the one,” but risk uncertainty and loneliness.

It’s exactly this feeling that makes the relationship difficult: I can see his love and care, feel comfortable, but deep down I know that’s not enough for me. And it’s normal not to feel the same way, not to be in love, even though my mind tells me, “It’s all logical, safe, and comfortable.”

I haven't decided yet what's more important to me: love, true passion, mutual feelings—or stability, security, and paperwork. Maybe the answer will come later. Maybe it’ll be different. But right now, I know one thing: everyone makes their own choice. And this situation is an attempt to figure out what you, specifically, are ready for.