Ah, the perils of early twenty-something-dom. Inevitably, post high school graduation, and the closer you inch to college graduation, the next major step, or at least hot topic of conversation, turns to marriage.
Or as I like to call it…
The older I get, (yes, I realize I’m not actually old at all thank goodness) the more I realize that until that (hopefully) hunk of a rock is on my finger, every Tom, Dick, and Harry will inquire as to my romantic perils.
Specifically, it’s more of an Karen, Susan, and Tiffany, since most males I’ve met fortunately tend to have no interest in my dating life.
Alas, seeing as I am a deceptively nice person, who, as I was once told is “not ugly,” well-meaning friends, family, and random acquaintances instantaneously take it upon themselves to find me a husband.
*Disclaimer. I’m watching Thor 2 while writing this, so this post may turn into a Chris Hemsworth appreciation forum. Just a warning.
At times, it can be extremely frustrating to be likened to a commodity of sorts. Like any single male and I are like two chemical substances that can be thrown into a test tube, and have some kind of spark. (see what I did there?)
The majority of the time, it is funny to see what eligible bachelors are presented to me, as if all single people are cards in a game of memory, just to be randomly flipped over, in hopes of a match.
PSA: On behalf of all single people, do not feel it is your duty to find me a husband. Unless you are a matchmaker by trade, or Patti from The Millionaire Matchmaker, it is simply alright to respond to my answer that I am single, with an “Oh” followed by a smile, joke about how you wish you were still single, or kind statement about how I’m still young, and there are plenty of fish in the sea.
Feel no obligation whatsoever to run through your brain archives for any single nephews, neighbors, coworkers, baristas, dentists, doctors, aliens, lumberjacks, that you think might like, or at least tolerate me.
Not to say that single people are completely free of guilt in this predicament. I more often than not will look at your picture or listen to your verbal descriptions of said eligible bachelor, and will instantly respond with a “yes, hook a sister up,” “no thanks,” “ew,” or any other natural response.
But when I think about if the situation was reversed, I hate the thought of being judged. Whether based on a picture, where I unfortunately display a beautiful double-chin, a highlight reel of my faults, or any other unintentionally unattractive criterion, I don’t want to be judged.
Thus, rather than immediately dismiss the prospect of marriage, or mentally walk down the aisle with a guy I’ve been offered, I’m going to pause. and think about the other person, and how I’d feel to be rejected through a third party by a guy.
Married friends, or friends in a relationship, we’re okay if we’re single.
If you are going to set us up, don’t tell us, so we get all weird like Michael Scott/”Date Mike” when under pressure to be charming and live up to your most likely inflated description of us.
To end this on a happy note, my father always tells me that while set ups may be cumberbatch cumbersome for the time being, if I was a totally gross or repulsive person, people wouldn’t be taking the steps to try to find me a guy. So I guess I’m doing something right if people think I’m worthy of a man.
That last statement makes me wonder if I’m watching too many Jane Austen movies.