As I peruse Facebook, amid the “so humbled and honored” posts where friends brag about their new jobs and the “look at this amazing place I went to that you’ll never see” travel posts that worsen my wanderlust, I see them: the engagement and wedding posts. I am officially at that age.
This past weekend I had my second experience as a bridesmaid. The first time was last December, when I was a bridesmaid in my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding. This time, I was a bridesmaid for my friend (and mentor) Jordan.
Here’s the thing–I absolutely LOVE love. It’s evident to those who know me. I cried when Jordan and Evan got engaged; I cried when they rehearsed their walk down the aisle; I cried when Evan arrived to the B&B and Jordan had to hide so he wouldn’t see her…the list goes on. Seeing two people so in love and so incandescently happy makes my heart overflow with joy.
However, I was reminded as the DJ ordered all of us fun, single girls off the dance floor and called on the “couples in the room” that I am not in love. Ugh.
I’m perfectly happy being single most of the time, except in moments like that. Moments where I feel utterly alienated because I lack a better half. On one hand, I feel comforted by the other girls sitting around me, forced off the dance floor with me in their singleness. On the other hand, I feel sad knowing that they’re probably just as hyperaware of their loneliness in that moment as I am.
At this point, I have accepted the fact that I will quite possibly wear 27 dresses before I get to wear that one special dress. I’ve got two down, 25 to go. However, I cling to the hope that my James Marsden character will come in the middle of all the bridesmaid-ing and sweep me off my feet (but hopefully not publicly humiliate me in journalistic pursuits).
Don’t get me wrong; I recognize the pros of being unattached. When I graduate in May, I have no strings tying me down. I can go on a spontaneous trip at any moment without telling anyone first. I can flirt with any random (single) guy, ever. But it’s hard to get excited about these things when you’re sipping sweet tea out of a mason jar, watching beaming couples slow dance under sparkly lights.
A boy named Michael Jones told me in the fifth grade something that I’ve never forgotten. He said, “You are the most intimidating girl at our school. That’s why boys don’t like to talk to you.” Not much has changed. I still have what I’m told can be a very intimidating personality. Everyone says “it” happens when you aren’t looking, but let’s be honest: everyone is looking. We are designed to love and be loved. While I am by no means actively scouting a better half, I’m am hoping that one of these days, the right boy will talk to me. And when he does, I’ll have a heck of a lot of bridesmaids ready.
PS- Christian Mingle, you can stop emailing me now. I’m nowhere near rock bottom.