As I watched my friends being pluck one by one from the tree of singlehood, I have realized that life is unpredictable and entertaining at the same time. Not only does it have the ability to make you cry until your eyes sting, but it can also knock you off your feet and make you laugh until your belly hurts. It wasn’t that long when we were chugging cans of Kokanee until dawn and making jokes about who would be the next victim to get hitch. This actually has become a ritual among my friends. In which, predicting who will be the next couple to say their vows or have a baby is a betting game. It’s exciting and fun at the same time. However, it becomes dreadfully wrong if you unintentionally become the victim whether you are ready to get hitch and have a baby or not. At least, that is how I see it. There are people in my circle of friends who have a knack for saying ridiculous things and eventually becoming true. They might not happen now, but they will in no time.
It is undeniable that getting married and having babies have become a trend nowadays. Being at the age in which people expect you to get married and procreate your own mini me, it becomes aggravating when your social life is bombarded with wedding, baby shower and christening invitations every now and then. It’s not helping that Facebook’s News Feed is constantly flooded with pictures of pre-wedding pictures and baby photos. And hypocrisy aside, these life achievements being displayed right under my nose give me a pang of envy. That denouncing these colossal, innocent accomplishments in life has become a routine of resentment and jealousy. For they are so closed, yet impossible for me to even consider at this point in my life.
Yes, I’m jealous of these people my age who have the courage to get married, get pregnant and start raising their own baby. I’m jealous because I know deep inside of me, I’m not ready to deal with a squealing baby or give up my sleep at night to change dirty diapers. I’m jealous of their humongous, dark circles around their eyes bellowing with contentment and happiness. I’m jealous of their fluttering smiles and dreamy expressions while they look at their baby with love and pride. I’m jealous because I’m not selfless like these people who gave up their independence, so they can raise their own baby. I’m jealous because they are capable of being generous to their significant others and becoming good parents, whereas I will probably suck at both.
Yet, at the same time, I cannot pretend to look at them in the eyes and wish that I had their life. That as much as I want to delude myself, marriage and babies at this stage of my life terrify the living hell out of me. That I’m still not ready to give up what independence I have nor fully equip to have a mini version of myself is sadly the reality, an ongoing reality which will probably not going to change for a while. That dressing up as a bridesmaid once in a while, and spoiling these cute babies on special occasions as their godmother are more than enough for a gal like me who bolts out the door the moment she sees these life-altering responsibilities.