When I got the call from my former college roommate asking me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding, I was beside myself with happiness: happy for her found love, and happy that I would play a part in her special day. The months and days leading up to the big day were filled with much anticipation and excitement; chit-chatter about the bridesmaids’ dresses, bachelorette party and hair appointments flooded my email inbox. I welcomed these emails with such enthusiasm that I in turn bombarded my own family with talk about dress alterations and hair options. But it wasn’t until I was sitting on the church bench watching my friend glide down the aisle in her silken gown, that I started having unexpected uncomfortable feelings about her tying the knot.
There was a growing uneasiness inside of me as I witnessed the single kiss that ushered in her new life, and simultaneously closed the chapter on her old maiden life– the life that I’d been a part of. It all became too much and eventually culminated in tears welling up in my eyes. “Get it together! You’re not wearing waterproof mascara!” I scolded myself as I blinked furiously. On such a joyous occasion it was ironic that I felt so sad in that moment: saddened by the imminent loss of yet another friend to the abyss of marriages, mortgages and kids. My Facebook news feed can attest to this phenomenon as it has all but evolved into a ream of pictures of engagement rings and weddings, and links to articles on breastfeeding. Us singletons know nothing of that world and it scares me to think of what that could mean for my friendships with my now married and soon-to-be married friends. This BuzzFeed video does a nice job of summarizing how that feels.
For the remainder of the afternoon I tried to push aside my somber feelings but as I caught up with more college friends and learned of their upcoming weddings or was introduced to their serious bae, I became acutely aware of my singleness. Even friends who had once boldly traveled to LA and NYC to chase their dreams had since returned to their hometowns empty-handed and hollow-eyed, ready to settle down. Childish dreams had since been put away and hard sacrifices had been made– that’s part of growing up, right? I was fascinated by what appeared to be an ongoing race to the altar among my peers, and even more fascinated by the fact that I’d somehow missed the invitation to compete. So alas, there I was, a lone ranger amidst a sea of couples listening to stories filled with “we this” and “our that.” While members of my cohort eagerly babbled on about wedding venues and gown details, in my head I was just like, so… we’re seriously old enough to get married and start households? Don’t we need adult supervision for these kinds of things?...
Excerpt from post originally published on Madame Noire.
Image credit (top): outreachr.com via flickr.com (Creative Commons License)