Scumbag On A Mission

Now that I’m 23. people have started asking me when I’m going to get married, and I always answer…when I’m 30, I’ll think about it.

That answer always precedes arched eyebrows and a huge "THIRTY?!? BUT WHY?!"

Let’s face it, I am at the age where people are starting to get married, just because. Not due to some unforeseen event that would be deemed by some to be shameful outside the bonds of marriage.

A few friends from high school and college have been proudly displaying their glittering diamonds, engagement announcements and wedding pictures on their profile pages. Their faces are so bright and expectant, blissfully awaiting the joint life that they are about to have with their respective partners.

Or are they?

And that, people, is why I am jealous.

Yes, I’m jealous. Not of the fact that they are getting married, but the fact that they have the capability to make that decision. That they can just say, to hell with it all, I love you, you love me, and we want to spend the rest of our lives together.

When is it that you realize the person you’re with is THE ONE? How do you choose among the billions of people on Earth the one person you’re meant to be with? How can you just dive into a life-altering decision with a huge smile on your face? Don’t you know that this is the person you will be arguing over wallpaper patterns and curfews with? Don’t you realize that you will be raising a child with this person? Will they be a good parent? Will they love you when you’re old and fat? Will they stick around through the bad times?

I just can’t imagine making such a decision this early in my life…I just can’t. I’m too afraid of making the wrong one.

Not that anyone has asked me, OK?! But I just wonder, when the time comes…will I be able to battle that fear and just…let go?

I wish I could be as carefree as I was when I first fell in love, before all the hurt, before the real world was revealed to me, forever destroying the beautiful facade that I had built for myself as a child about what love is. But that’s the price to pay for wisdom and experience. Loss of a fantasy.

I wish I could just fall backward onto a blue towel on the grass like in that old Nestea commercial, knowing full well that I could smash straight onto the hard ground, battered and bruised.

If only I could be certain that that blue towel would turn into a sparkling pool of water to envelope me as I fell. Will I ever, ever feel that way?

This entry was posted on Friday, August 24th, 2007 at 12:28 pm and is filed under Heartstrings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.