25 Mar

In the short course of my time on this earth I’ve learned that, during each stage of life, there will be people (some you know, and even some you don’t) who feel the need to subject you to a timely–although sometimes unfair to the answerer, as some of us are clearly still in process of getting everything together–question. Elementary age: “what do you want to be when you grow up?”; middle school: “what do you want to do with your life?”; high school: “what college are you going to attend/when are you going?”; college: “what is your major? can you make any money with that degree?”; dating: “so, when are you going to put a ring on that finger/is he going to pop the question?”; engagement: “when are you two getting married?”; marriage: “when are you two going to have a baby?”, and ETC! Frankly, I’m tired. I’ll know when I know, and then you’ll know too–I promise, you won’t be left in the dark. When I’m choosing a college, when I’m attending that college, when I apply for a job, when I’m working, when I have a ring on my finger, when you see a wedding band with it, when I start gaining awkward weight, believe me–you’ll know!

Thankfully, I’m [finally] in college. But then again, I’m a history major. Please, you’re not the first to ask me what on earth I’m going to do with that, or even whether I’ll be able to make decent money at it. As for the first, I’m a freshman–I’ll figure it out soon enough. In answer to the second, my choice of the major itself should speak to the fact that I’m not in it for the money. Although recently I have also found myself at that awkward dating phase: a year in, definitely headed toward marriage, but no ring. This particular subject, however, is more sensitive to me.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ll just smile at all of the usual questions (I apologize to you, reader, as this post betrays that one percent of the time), but this one is becoming harder to brush aside. To be married to the love of my dreams is one of the two things I’ve truly ever wanted from life. Now, I’ve found him–or rather, he found me. And I am content in knowing that he wants to marry me, and that the usual events will proceed in due course. But please, please–stop asking when. I know you think it’s cute, and it’s funny, and it’s sweet; it was, the first several times. Five couples in our acquaintance got engaged over this one-year span. That’s fine; I am content with his promise and our mutual desire to be married. Four couples got married. That’s fine; I am content with his desire to “put a ring on that finger,” as he says, and to spend the rest of his days with me. Most couples we know see each other four to five times more during the week than my Cugar and I are able. That’s fine; I am content with his voice and conversation. But please–don’t ask if I became engaged at Christmas, at New Year’s, on Spring Break, or since you’ve seen me last, and PLEASE, don’t grab my hand and physically check my finger. If you haven’t received a frantically joyful text from me recently or you don’t visibly see a ring on my left hand, the answer is no. So until then… please, don’t. Just, don’t.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: