(Day 2 of 30 in 30)
I won’t even lie.
Spending the last week or so hanging out with a secondary group of friends, mostly married, some with kids, their stories peppered with mentions of “my husband’ and “the house” and “when we were in (insert country here)” all punctuated by gesturing hands topped with glittering rings made me feel some kinda way. It often does. Partially because in all the years I have known these women, I have often been single (though, it stands to note, that these are not the friends I would be particularly pressed to bring a boo around). And partially because, you know, my mama. And the constant reminders everywhere I turn that something must be wrong with me. It wears on you after a while, no matter what your feelings on the subject.
But in the same vein of honesty I also have to admit; hearing these smart, funny, gorgeous women (who are by no means Stepford wives rendered two-dimensional or stripped of personality by marriage the way some might have you believe all women are) talk about how they had to pack for their husbands to make sure they remembered to bring underwear on long trips, or the trials of pregnancy and motherhood and all the trappings that typically go with married-with-2.5-kids-a-dog-and-a-house, I felt relief wash over me in big, overwhelming waves I can barely explain. I was overwhelmingly glad to be going to a big bed I can sprawl out in and that when I want to get up and go, to the store, to Atlanta, to Jamaica, I absolutely can. That when I buy something I have no business buying, I have no one pouring over our shared credit card bills and questioning how much I spent. That on any given day I can shut myself off from civilization with the shows I have DVRed for myself and watch them in my bed in my panties without worry for do I need to cook for him? Where is he? What do I need to do for us for ____ event? Did he pay this bill? Did he do this thing? “My husband”, “my kids”, him, him, them, us, he he he.
I won’t pretend I don’t often wish I was sharing my big Sunday dinners with someone. Or of going to see movies with someone other than my mama. Or extending the list of cities and countries I have made the sex in with a significant other when I travel. But after leaving my friends and dragging my sweaty, exhausted self into the shower and then bed, I lay there, diagonally of course, incredibly grateful of being exactly where I should be for what I’m ready for. And not a single thing else.
Liquor, Loans & Love 
I agree with the Anonymoous comment before me. You can't define what you think your future relationship with your future “Boo” will be based upon the framework of someone elses relationship. I'm sure that there's a man out there that wouldn't have a problem leaving you to watch your DVR'd shows in your panties or being cool with you spontaneously taking a trip by yourself or with your girls. Those men do exist.
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Your friend's marriage is just that. It belongs to them. Although they may share tidbits they aren't telling you, especially single you, all that is going on. Being married doesn't mean you have to pack your husbands suitcase, most MEN do that on their own. It's okay to celebrate what you have, singleness, but don't lie to yourself about the reasons why.
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Giiiiirrrrrrrlllllllll…..I just…*does praise dance down the aisle* I always have this dueling dichotomous Dragon thought of “I want to be a wife” and “I am so damn happy I don't have to be responsible for anydamnbody else but me”. Maybe one day that first dragon will win, but right now my Single Girl Dragon is doing the Serena Williams crip walk of victory.
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Lurker here. This was interesting to read, because I'm 24 and engaged and I don't see myself doing all of that. It's really easy to fall into the “default” roles of husband & wife because the script is already there. There is no script for an egalitarian marriage, you've just got to figure the sh*t out.
I don't know if I will have more than one child because while adorable, children are work. Work that doesn't end even after they turn 18 and leave the nest. Also? I'm nobody's mama. I read somewhere that when it comes to household duties, you should “start the way you plan to finish.” So when my fiance comes over to my place he takes out the trash, puts up the dishes when I cook, and helps with the laundry. I don't want there to be ANY illusion that there's a House Fairy who magically disposes of clutter in the night. I've caught some outside flack for being both too domestic and not domestic enough, but it's working for us.
I'm sure you'll find someone who will love traveling with you and share kitchen duty!
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@Rae with Love – This is how I feel about it. When I'm ready, it will come. Well, when I'm as ready as anyone can ever be, lol
@Gem- Poor Crabby. lol
@Adei- The summers might be a large part of what keeps me perpetually single but that's a WHOLE 'NOTHER POST. lol
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@Rae with Love – This is how I feel about it. When I'm ready, it will come. Well, when I'm as ready as anyone can ever be, lol
@Gem- Poor Crabby. lol
@Adei- The summers might be a large part of what keeps me perpetually single but that's a WHOLE 'NOTHER POST. lol
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yeah, whenever i get that “damn i'm 30…” itch, i think of my summers… and days that i can eat cupcakes all day… and days when i don't have to fold up a stroller to get in the house… and having to worry about another person's feelings.
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I still lie diagonally in the bed for sleep time. I'm just saying yeen gotta give all that up.
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Yes!! Great post!! I think I feel the same way sometimes and being where I am in the process, I think I'm ready but there will come a time when it will be fully right and I won't worry about that. I wrote about something similar last night.
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