Why Is Everyone Around Me Getting Married?

And what is this feeling I’m having?

images from here and there

Some time ago, I was talking to an acquaintance about how much our circles had changed. We had no shared friends before, yet our experiences felt similar. We both had friends who were now married, and somehow, it’s not the same.

She mentioned that at her last meetup, she couldn’t understand their obsession with home aesthetics. I one-upped her. I was completely lost when the conversation turned to baby talk. We laughed, shook our heads, and moved on.

Then, a few months later, I saw her wedding photos. Another one gone.

I was on the phone with another friend, planning a meetup. Next thing I knew, I heard her little boy coughing in the background. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Normally, that’s just a regular conversation. But for me? I knew this girl since middle school. I knew how she used to talk, what her worries were back then. Now, she’s a mom? It felt… off.

Then I saw another friend pregnant. Let’s just say I barely held back a bad joke.

At this point, every acquaintance I knew and probably even those I didn’t seemed to have crossed over. So now, tell me, where did all the girls line up, and where was I when they were lining up? How did I not even manage to sabotage one friend?

I’m not sure what I feel about all this. It’s definitely not excitement, not for them and not for me. I’m rather wary of marriages. Like, what if your husband turns out to be a serial killer? Or a spy, and you’re… a threat?

I do like the idea of having a place to call home, though. Like how my parents call our home our home. But I don’t think I’m jealous. I’ve seen enough marriages to be skeptical. No amount of weddings, online cringe, or K-dramas can manipulate me into thinking otherwise.

It’s not hatred though. I mean, who hates looking beautiful, eating cake, and calling someone my man? (Emphasis on my.) There’s no circumstance where you can call a full-grown, bearded, hoarse-voiced man, whom another lady raised, mine. I didn’t pay for him, but he’s mine. And I like free stuff.

I have a picture of myself at maybe three years old, holding a stuffed toy as tall as me. Sometimes, I look at that picture and just get the word ‘Saudade’ even more. (Never tried pronouncing it) And this isn’t a toy we’re talking about. It’s a man, hopefully taller than me.

It’s not sadness either. I’m not sad for the bride, even though a weddings do feel like a ritual where she’s wrapped in white, stamped with gold on her finger, and shipped off like a finalized purchase. There’s some conspiracy behind weddings; I just can’t pinpoint it.

I’m not sad for my unpackaged, bare-handed self standing amidst a crowd of wrapped-up ones either. Maybe the wedding conspiracy is a coping mechanism my brain cooked up.

That little voice in my head goes: That girl who never washed her cup and cried over ice cream just signed up for a lifetime deal: chef, cleaning crew, therapist, cheerleader, friend with benefits, motherhood… I wonder if she read the terms and conditions. Then again, love is blind. I nod my head.

My brain keeps going, See how she is getting into a car with him? That’s what you call a point of no return. Then it adds, Look at the the crowd. I bet everyone knows what a wedding night is. And suddenly, I giggle in disgust.

I like my brain and all the twisted logic it cooks up just to protect my fragile little heart.

It’s not anger, either. I mean, I still haven’t fully come to terms with the fact that we’re at that age. But I’m not outright fuming about it. It’s not surprise too, because, again, we’re at that age. And deep down, I knew these innocent faces hid some unspeakable desires… like wanting to leave home and live with a man. A whole, breathing, grown-up man. I knew it.

It’s not fear or anxiety either. After all, everything is written, the pens have been lifted, and the pages have dried. No man can reroute fate.

It’s something else

Have you ever said, I don’t want something, or I don’t mind not having it, but then you see people fighting for it, getting it, and glowing with joy... and suddenly, you wonder—Do I want it, too? Should I want it? Am I missing something?

Yeah. That feeling.

Plus, losing all the people you know to men and kids.

So … What is this feeling?