Dazed and Confused

As my mailbox begins to exponentially fill with romantic postcards to save the date, militant agendas for bachelorette parties, and wedding invitations with more layers of paperwork than my health insurance, I am often reminded of the three objectives every parent I know has for their children.

  1. Become a doctor, engineer, or a lawyer,
  2. Marry a doctor, engineer, or a lawyer, and
  3. Produce children that become doctors, engineers, or lawyers.

Disappointingly enough, I have yet to attain any of the above. And as I am nowhere close to accomplishing so much as even one of these goals, I can always look forward to the 137% chance that my seemingly perpetual singledom will be brought up for discussion.

In fact, just a few weeks ago during Thanksgiving, my sage uncle stopped himself mid-chew to look at me and ask a few probing questions.

My uncle: “Do you have a boyfriend now?”
Me: “Nope!”
My uncle: “Are you looking?”
Me: “No, I’m not LOOKING.”
My uncle: “I think you need to start looking.”

So not only have I failed to fling myself into the social circles of doctors, engineers, or lawyers, I am apparently not even trying hard enough to see these circles.

The general consensus appears to be that my future boyfriend is taking forever to arrive.

The general consensus appears to be that my future boyfriend is taking forever to arrive.

I consider myself pretty lucky though. Given that I’ve managed to make it all the way to my mid-twenties before encountering this inquisition into my perceived shamble of a personal life, I’m a lot more fortunate than some of my peers, whose own families have made it clear that the time to get hitched was yesterday. Even so, there were hints leading up to this moment; it’s my own fault I missed the red flags, starting from my college days whilst studying abroad in South America.

My dad: “How is your Spanish coming along? Are you ready to come home?”
Me: “It’s amazing! I’ve met some truly wonderful people and my Spanish is much more fluid now.”
My dad: “That’s nice. I think you need to start dating when you get back.”
Me: “Come again?”
My dad: “‘Dating.’ Daaatinggg. How come you never bring anyone home for us to meet?”
Me: “Are you aware I’m in another continent right now?”
My dad: “ARE YOU A LESBIAN?”

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