This is my last month on the far side of thirty. On December 15th, I'll be balanced in the middle of twenty and thirty. On December 16th, that balance will tip and I will officially be nearer to thirty than I am to twenty.
Basically every birthday since twenty-one has been scary. I think that twenty-one was just absolutely perfect. By twenty-one, I enjoyed all the privileges of adulthood, including voting, buying beer for minors, and going to a bar whenever I ever felt like it. So what if I've never felt like it. That doesn't matter. What matters is that if I wanted to, I could. Twenty-five offers me just a little more freedom. I'll be able to rent a car without paying extra insurance.
Getting older and being single seems to be more of an embarrassment than anything else. Yes, I know, I know. Twenty-five isn't that old, blah, blah, blah. But it sure feels old when you're among the oldest in your ward, when all the other sisters in your whole mission seemed to successfully find love within months of coming home, and when the closest you've come to intimacy in the last three years was when your German fishing date tenderly hooked your veeerm to your line so that you didn't have to do it yourself.
Last week I missed Monday classes because I wasn't feeling well. When I attended those classes on Wednesday, a girl whose name I don't even know got my attention. "Cicada," she said, flashing her brand-new engagement ring in my face. "You weren't here on Monday, were you? Because that's when I announced that I got engaged. I'm going to get married." The point is, if I never cared enough to even learn her name, then I certainly wasn't going to be any degree of excited or interested in knowing whether or not she was more successful than me in finding love and reciprocity.
Either later that day, or during our Friday's class, the teacher announced, "This must be a year of engagements! It seems that everyone is coming forward and announcing to me that they're getting married." That seemed like the appropriate moment to get up and say, "I haven't seen action in years, baby. Years." But I didn't. I am a woman who shows restraint. Not that that's ever gotten me anywhere. In love. Which is all that counts right now.
This morning in my computer class, a group member came in late, even though our assignment was due at the beginning of class and we couldn't turn it in before we had her part of the assignment. She apologized and explained that she was late because she had a breakfast date. The two other members of the group are both married. Their faces lit up with delight and one said, "You are always going on dates! You are so popular with the men!" At that moment, I considered swallowing my keyboard whole to distract me from the agony of sitting in proximity to these people.
It's not that I loathe married people. I just despise them in my own little bitter and jealous way.
And so that's that. If you think I'm bitter on the far side of thirty, just wait till I cross that line in a month. Heavens! It's 12:02! That makes it November 16th. I am one day closer.