Love Struck Dumb

I guess it started when I was just a freshman in high school. It was towards the end of the year. I heard a knock at my door. It was Michelle. She and her boyfriend, Dave, were upperclassmen and my very first friends at Syracuse University. We chit chatted. She told me she had a surprise. She whipped out her hand, sparkling with a gorgeous engagement ring. She screamed. I screamed. We all screamed for ice cr- you get the point.

It seemed like a dream. One moment I was a mere high schooler, reliving passionate scenes of too-good-to-be-true movies in prolonged daydreams. The next, I was a college student and everyone, everyone, was getting married.

The pace seemed to intensify once I became a junior. I made a feeble attempt to count how many friends were doing the crazy by writing them down. By the time I was a senior, I had given up hope. Over 20 friends were engaged. Now that I've graduated, I continue to hear about who is donning the latest rock. Even the people who swore off love, who committed their hearts and genitals to hating the opposite sex, are now engaged.

How did this happen? When did we leap from drooling youngsters into lovesick adults? Better question, did I miss the leap in my own life?

I'm 22. I'm young. I have a figure (sort of). My boobs don't sag. I'm at the start of a promising career. I just moved out of my parents' house. I pay my own bills. I bought car insurance. I memorize car terms and try not to look ignorant in front of mechanics. I lead a women's bible group. I am in a serious relationship with a not-so-serious boy. I've honed the quintessential, made-for-TV love-hate relationship with my mother. I'm a young professional, damn it.

I'm not ready for marriage.

So how does everyone who's engaged know they're ready? The same way I know I'm not, I guess.

I mean, Jason and I talk about it. No actual plans, just daydreams. Well, mine are daydreams. I think he seriously thinks about it...more often than he'd ever admit. He's made it clear that he wants to marry me and grow old together. We joke about our kids' names and what they'll be like. (Jason wants to name the oldest boy Paste. He says he'll eat paste, beat up kids, and be cool. Shoot me in the face, please.)

I'm always asking, "But how do you know?" "How did you know she was the one?" "How do you know you want to marry me, Jason?" "How did you know you were ready to get married?" "How did you know you were ready for kids?" How do you know?

I'm starting to learn that maybe it isn't about knowing. Maybe it's just about being happy where you are with what you do know, and being willing to take a leap and fly with what you don't.