This morning I logged onto Facebook (duh) and realized that yet another of my former high school classmates had gotten married. That little heart popped up on the side of the screen and ruined my entire morning.
Wait, that sounds wrong. That makes me sound like I'm itching, desperate, waiting, wanting, WAITING to find a husband of my own. That's incorrect. What I don't understand is why - at 23 - you feel the need to tie yourself to another human being for the rest of your life. Or, more accurately, for the next five years of your life, after which you will break up and HAVE TO GET DIVORCED. And honestly, no one wants to date a 28 year old divorcee, so good luck getting back into the dating game.
You could, as alternate plan, date like a normal person in their twenties and get married when you're good and ready to commit to a life together that will last in the double digits. I know, I know, so-and-so's grandparents have been married since they were 18 and they are still in love, sixty years later. You know what I have to say to that? This isn't 1932. I THINK times have changed since then. Or so my iPad is telling me.
Commitment is commitment, ring or not. But then again, I'm not married so what do I know.
Aside from the shirtless men, this is the next best trend to come out of London 2012:
Married at 23? McKayla Maroney is not impressed. Also in the news today: Tom Daley is 18. I'm going to celebrate with a margarita. And a taco.