Sometimes I really hate Facebook. Not often, but when it serves as a tool to remind me on a semi-regular basis just how single I am, I do. Almost daily I discover one new acquaintance who has either gotten married or having a child, or both.
This rant or complaint session is not completely in agreement with my standards or life expectations as late. In fact, you could say they are quite contradictory to my latest future plans. Every now and then I get the travel bug. It's like an itch I just have to scratch. I want to travel the world, see everything, go everywhere, learn about different cultures, learn new languages, etc. How could this be possible without being completely independent?
Yet I can't help but fantasize about doing all this with a partner. I see the pages of people I've known traveling with their husbands, seeing the world and living. Living. Together. How much more romantic could you get? Today I happened upon some pictures of a girl I knew in college. She just got married wearing the most gorgeous gown I've ever seen. Her pre-wedding party was on the Red Sea. She and her husband had the most beautiful professional photos I've ever seen taken. I was overflowing with jealousy.
But why should I be jealous? In fact I've been elated lately with this newfound sense of independence I've developed. For the first time in my life I've been actually relieved to not be tied down; to not owe anything to anybody. Yet, part of me still years to find my other half, my soul mate, if you will. Is that a bit contradictory? Perhaps I can simply justify it by my Gemini-ness, which I do define to the T.
Maybe not in the near future, but I do want to be married. I certainly have no clue what my future will hold, but I can't help but fret that it will be experienced entirely alone. It's a bit terrifying.
Today while reading serenely in the warm air on my balcony I watched a pregnant neighbor watering her lawn. I had never seen her before, but she looked about to burst. Wearing a heather grey maxi-dress which only accentuated her ready-to-burst belly, she spoke jovially with another neighbor across the street. I imagined what I would look like pregnant. As someone who has always had a few hangups about my weight, it was strange to find myself thinking this. A thought that once would have nauseated me was now, suddenly, intriguing me. I imagined myself pregnant with twins, a handsome foreign husband by my side visiting my current job telling my boss about all the adventures my husband and I had gone on, the places we'd seen, the things I had done with my career, and even imagining which possible country my wedding and the conception of my children had occurred in.
Yes, I've daydreamed about my future before. Yes, it often includes a husband. But rarely does pregnancy ever factor in. Usually the thought repulses me. Today, however, it did not. Perhaps it's the fact that my twenty-fifth birthday is now looming an all-too-close two weeks away. Maybe my biological clock, as it were, is just ticking. Who knows. Who possibly can know? I suppose only time will tell, and hopefully, this mood, too will pass.
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