Today is supposed to be the hottest day this year so far in the New York. With temperatures in the mid-90s, it is clear that the summer months are upon us. I shouldn’t be surprised, then, when the air around me is filled with the usual summer chatter, namely talk of weddings. It’s everywhere, from my jogging partner to old friends from Texas. I’m attending a Chabad wedding in August. Ben was just up here for a mutual friend’s wedding. Even Daniel’s friends are popping the question. Mazal tov! Izz koo, do’. This isn’t my first "summer of everyone else’s love." This is, however, the first time that I have been old enough to feel the residual pressure. I have met few people whose eventual goal is not to get married. Even the friends from whom I expect the most still fantasize out loud about that big day. I too have been guilty of this for years.
While the idea of spending thousands of dollars to celebrate my "passing GO" with another mensch thrills me, I am simultaneously panicking. It’s like that test-taking type of panic. You know; in school, when everyone’s given more than enough time to finish a test. That doesn’t matter, though. As soon as the first person finishes, that panic starts to increase. We ask ourselves, "Why is she done so soon? What am I doing wrong? Boy, I’ve really got to get serious."
But, I am serious. I’m as serious as any box from Tiffany’s could ever suggest. I’ve already picked out children’s names. I sure as hell haven’t spent this much time with men for fun.
So, there’s the panic. It’s not so bad. Who couldn’t be truly happy for everyone? I’m just amazed that, after everything that I’ve dated, I am still not there yet. At times, I sit around and ask myself what I’m doing wrong. And, I wonder whether I’m even ready for so permanent a commitment. I’m still deciding whether I want to continue in the same graduate program or if switching is better. Should I stay in New York? To buy a suit that fits or lose an inch or two?
There are times when I sit so still. I stare off into space retracing my life’s proverbial steps. Then, there are times when I take that long look in the mirror. The fog fades, and it all becomes clear. "Silly me," I say. "At 19, I’m just too young."
2 comentarios:
The thing my dear Hillel, is however, that the girl who finished first is just as self-conscious about that as everyone else. She's thinking "What am I doing wrong? Should this be taking me longer? FUCK!"
Don't worry about it- everyone doubts their decisions, no matter what they may be.
Moreover, I plan to stay young forever, so no rush on my front! take it up as a philosophy!
xoxo,
carly
I agree w/ Carly, to a certain extent.
Back in high school, when I'd finish chemistry test before my classmates, I was nervous--because I was scared it should have taken me longer.
However, when I was in college, I knew I was prepared, and I was bolstered in my confidence when I was first.
It's not necessarily a bad thing to be the first, if you're sure.
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