I bought a building. Fell in love with a girl. She astutely points out that we'll never really get along. We're trying to figure out how much that matters. I asked her to marry me. Is that a bad idea? I dunno, I've never really gotten along with my family in any perfect sense of that word. But, you might say, I am stuck with my family. Not exactly true you'll realize if you really think about it. Hell, I ran away at twelve. Seriously ran away. Found elsewhere to live. And while I was never really disowned, however much I might have deserved it, I know that some of the older generation must have considered it.
And so, to me family actually seems a rather voluntary association. Any marginally emotionally healthy person will probably form some sort of said association, depending on levels of abuse and other insane behaviors. But many don't, and I can't speak to their tens of thousands (millions?) of motivations. Still, I don't think anything worthwhile is easy. I know that I would not love my parents nearly as much as I do if we got along perfectly.
Following these lines of reasoning I think the marriage is worth a try. That isn't quite right. If it's worth trying then it's worth doing. Recent correspondences remind me that I'm not the one to give up.