The moment I called off my three-year, long-distance relationship at the end of my junior year of college, I dated non-stop, making up for all the missed opportunities I had while being a faithful girlfriend. Once I was free of any obligations, I took a long pause from taking any man seriously enough to be his girlfriend and have thoroughly (don’t think I can stress that enough through written words) appreciated the highs and lows of being single.
I’ve met some great guys along my single life’s journey and they’ve made great friends. One of which is my friend Mike*. He and I have been friends since our college days. We hit it off instantly. We share the same taste in music, a love of God and were born just two days apart. I believe in his dreams and support his decisions and he has been there for me in the same regard. Our friendship is easy. We give career advice, laugh and pray together and reel each other in when we start to get off track. We love one another like real friends should, never crossing the line. One night, Mike called to tell me it didn’t work out with his long-time girlfriend and as we were sharing advice from opposite perspectives, he approached me with “the pact.” If we were both still single at age 30, we’d get married. Thirty seemed so far away and marriage was the furthest thing from my mind so I agreed. Besides, Mike was hardly ever without a girlfriend and I knew neither of us would still be single at 30. When he would remind me of the pact, I’d brush him off, never taking him seriously.
Last month, I had an encounter with a complete loser and texted Mike to laugh and vent about it. The first text read: Strongly considering marrying you at 30. He responded: Do you mean it? I immediately thought maybe he’d had a failed encounter as well because the response we usually gave each other was more encouraging, suggesting that “the one” is still out there. So I called him, but he didn’t answer. The next day, I sent him an instant message and there was no reply then either. Something was up, so I shot him another quick message explaining that I was merely having a moment and there was no need for cold feet. His response: you know I love you, that’s not the issue. Afraid of what the real issue might be, I dropped the subject.
Two weeks had gone by since that conversation. As I was picking up some last-minute items at the store, Mike called me. With my hands full, I managed to only drop my jaw when he told me, “I’m having a baby.” I didn’t react verbally. “I plan to propose over the holiday weekend,” he continued. “I want you to meet her and of course be at the wedding after the baby’s born.” At a loss for words, I looked at the phone trying to process the news. I can’t remember what I said once I gathered my thoughts, but I don’t recall blurting out a congratulations. It was obvious I was let down by the unprotected sex, the fact that he’d never mentioned this woman before and the shotgun proposal. But it was clear to the both of us that those weren’t the only reasons I was upset. If he was proposing to his long-time girlfriend, I would’ve been prepared. This, however, was inconsiderate and abrupt. He was my back up plan!
You don’t have to tell me. I already know how ridiculous I sound, but I was truly and selfishly disappointed at the time. Not having met anyone even remotely close to being considered for marriage, I didn’t find a need to worry because when all else failed, at least I had Mike. But as I tip-toe along the threshold of my “late” twenties, 30 no longer seems so far away. With every great accomplishment, such as obtaining a graduate degree and purchasing my first home, comes the constant question of marriage from family and now even my friends. It’s finally hit me: there’s no backup plan when it comes to love. So what do you do when there’s no plan B (no pun initially intended)? It’s a hard pill to swallow, but necessary to digest. I’m still searching for the answer to what I know is a rhetorical question, but in the meantime, Live.Love.Learn…and repeat!
*Name has been changed to protect identity.
I’ve met some great guys along my single life’s journey and they’ve made great friends. One of which is my friend Mike*. He and I have been friends since our college days. We hit it off instantly. We share the same taste in music, a love of God and were born just two days apart. I believe in his dreams and support his decisions and he has been there for me in the same regard. Our friendship is easy. We give career advice, laugh and pray together and reel each other in when we start to get off track. We love one another like real friends should, never crossing the line. One night, Mike called to tell me it didn’t work out with his long-time girlfriend and as we were sharing advice from opposite perspectives, he approached me with “the pact.” If we were both still single at age 30, we’d get married. Thirty seemed so far away and marriage was the furthest thing from my mind so I agreed. Besides, Mike was hardly ever without a girlfriend and I knew neither of us would still be single at 30. When he would remind me of the pact, I’d brush him off, never taking him seriously.
Last month, I had an encounter with a complete loser and texted Mike to laugh and vent about it. The first text read: Strongly considering marrying you at 30. He responded: Do you mean it? I immediately thought maybe he’d had a failed encounter as well because the response we usually gave each other was more encouraging, suggesting that “the one” is still out there. So I called him, but he didn’t answer. The next day, I sent him an instant message and there was no reply then either. Something was up, so I shot him another quick message explaining that I was merely having a moment and there was no need for cold feet. His response: you know I love you, that’s not the issue. Afraid of what the real issue might be, I dropped the subject.
Two weeks had gone by since that conversation. As I was picking up some last-minute items at the store, Mike called me. With my hands full, I managed to only drop my jaw when he told me, “I’m having a baby.” I didn’t react verbally. “I plan to propose over the holiday weekend,” he continued. “I want you to meet her and of course be at the wedding after the baby’s born.” At a loss for words, I looked at the phone trying to process the news. I can’t remember what I said once I gathered my thoughts, but I don’t recall blurting out a congratulations. It was obvious I was let down by the unprotected sex, the fact that he’d never mentioned this woman before and the shotgun proposal. But it was clear to the both of us that those weren’t the only reasons I was upset. If he was proposing to his long-time girlfriend, I would’ve been prepared. This, however, was inconsiderate and abrupt. He was my back up plan!
You don’t have to tell me. I already know how ridiculous I sound, but I was truly and selfishly disappointed at the time. Not having met anyone even remotely close to being considered for marriage, I didn’t find a need to worry because when all else failed, at least I had Mike. But as I tip-toe along the threshold of my “late” twenties, 30 no longer seems so far away. With every great accomplishment, such as obtaining a graduate degree and purchasing my first home, comes the constant question of marriage from family and now even my friends. It’s finally hit me: there’s no backup plan when it comes to love. So what do you do when there’s no plan B (no pun initially intended)? It’s a hard pill to swallow, but necessary to digest. I’m still searching for the answer to what I know is a rhetorical question, but in the meantime, Live.Love.Learn…and repeat!
*Name has been changed to protect identity.
