Twenty-four years of existence. Three relationships which lasted no more than three months. Yes, all three of them. It doesn’t matter that I started out with good intent and wanted to make things work and last. They always seem to drop me faster than I could blink an eye. It makes me think: Is it my fault? I mean, one failed relationship is bad enough. But two? A consecutive two? That’s kind of a pity, isn’t it?
This makes me wonder if I’m going to grow old alone. Not that I don’t mind. Truth is, I’ve profusely enjoyed being single. Not that I work hard and party harder when I am. It just means I’ve so much breathing room for myself. But society dictates that I marry. Hell, family dictates I marry. That’s ironic, since there are a number of my relatives who are past their thirties and still haven’t made that trip down the aisle. Then being a girl makes the pressure more intense, because a girl is expected to marry before they hit their thirties. My family is worried I’m going to turn into a spinster. And it is times like tonight that I worry I might turn into a spinster.
Maybe I should just secretly connive with a guy to get married, for the sake of putting the old “When will you get married?” conversation. Said guy would be needing me, too, of course because he has to put a front to his family as well. Ahh… A story is brewing inside my head. Nice =) Maybe I should get started on that. Forget this issue, this concern (whatever you prefer to call it) at least for a moment.
