I can’t help but feel a small rise of panic as my world gets infiltrated by these small, shiny rocks banded on silver and gold, residing on many a woman’s (frankly, far too many girl’s as well) left ring finger.
I made the picture larger than I normally do in an attempt to adequately convey how much it permeates this culture that I’m in. Not only have I reached marriageable age, I’m going to pass by the most common married age for Mormon girls this November. This boggles my mind. I have no desire to desperately search for someone who can marry me in the least amount of time. Seriously, none. I’d rather wait three or four years for someone worthwhile than Joe Accounting (my most sincere apologies to accountants) who is fresh off a mission and able to marry me in two months.
I look around and I don’t see love in most of these connections. I’m not saying it isn’t there, I just don’t see how you can sign off your forever to someone you have known for literally two weeks. (It sounds like an exaggeration, but I can give you names of people who have done this. Please note that names is plural.) But some might argue I’m far too protective of who I jump into the rest of my life with. I will politely disagree.
So while this ring-less girl will see Christmases come and go, World Series’ frustrations slip into yesteryear, and all the other ways I measure my life pass me by, I have no intentions of marrying anyone within the next several years. Yes, dear family, I will be the old maid of all of you and I accept this honor gladly. I wholeheartedly delight in the fact that I will have years of experience under my belt and that this, hopefully, will help tame me enough to where a risky young man will want to give into gravity and get on one knee. Even better, I’ll want to say yes.