The Fellowship of the Rings
As young woman, I can always appreciate a nice piece of jewelry. However, as a young urban professional in New York (a Yuppie, if you will), I’ve recently noticed that every time I scope a guy out, I glance down at their hand and see a shining metal circle of eternity perched carefully on their finger. Call me stupid, but isn’t the word on the street that people are getting married later, less often, and then getting divorced? Well, apparently not in New York.
On the subway, on the railroad, in the office and on line at popular lunch locales, I can’t help but notice the abundance of man bling around me. Is the city suddenly part of some epic trend reversal? It can’t just be that I happen to see all the married men in the course of my travels: there’s got to be something more to it.
It’s not that I’m not happy for them…marriage is a good thing, in my opinion. Celebrating your everlasting love in front of friends and family, blah blah blah. But I suppose the thing that gets me is that the men I see often don’t look much older than I am, and as a result I start to hear my biological clock ticking somewhere in the distance.
I am still so very young: but then I think so are they. Did the National Society of Twentysomething Rules and Etiquette send out a memo about marriage that I missed? The only young married people I know did so because of religious reasons. But most of my close friends are not even on the ramp to marriage, let alone cruising on the highway.
One day I would love to be part of the whole she-bang: the dress, the china pattern, the monogrammed invitation, registering for 19 mixing bowls at Crate & Barrel. But for now I’m more into just being 22, going out with my friends, having a few drinks too many, and at the end of the day only having myself to worry about.
Why be such a grown up when you’re still sort of allowed to act like a kid?