ExposedNYC

I sat in the hall, decorated simply with gorgeous flowers and filled simply with the people that mattered, and discovered that I was jealous.

I didn’t begrudge the bride a moment of her happiness- in fact, I flew across the country to be a witness to it. It was just a sucker punch to the stomach when I realized I didn’t just want the wedding day, I wanted a marriage.

I watched them gaze into each other’s eyes, his thumbs stroking her wrists in a simple telling gesture to calm her down and dry the tears that tumbled down the aisle with her. I didn’t want the tux or the ring, I wanted the touch.

I sat and listened to the toasts full of inside jokes and praises of a couple that grew together and made each other better people. I would’ve traded a hundred glasses of champagne for a story of my own.

And then I had brunch with friends who have settled down, invested in property and procreated little bundles of responsibility who demanded their time, attention, and occasionally their sanity. I realized, despite their gorgeous little faces and the persistent banging of a maternal instinct on my heavily barricaded ovaries, I’m not ready for that yet.

I recognize the difference between my long-term dreams and my short-term goals. I may not be anywhere near a ring on my finger, especially one designed for teething, but I’m ready to settle. I’m done with just for fun, at least for this week, and I’m looking for someone to share a morning coffee and a mortgage. Now if I could just make it past the second date…

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