A voice from the non-married one

There are a few occasions that happen in a single 20-something's life that makes one want to put her head in the oven. The first is the wedding of an ex. Fortunately for me, this happened pretty early on. I was still a underclassman in college. Those Christians who wait until marriage to experience the joys of sex typically dive head-on into the marriage pool WAY before anyone else. My friend Tim from high school got hitched when he was 20, I believe. I wasn't invited. Even in high school though, he always "courted" instead of "dated." As soon as he realized he couldn't marry a girl for some reason or another, he broke it off. I think he had somewhere around 24 girlfriends during those 4 years. I had one, and it was very brief.

His name was Jamie- insert laugh track here. I got an e-mail my sophomore year of college from a mutual friend stating that he was getting married. It made a little more sense for him- he was 2 years older and probably graduating college. The news didn't bother me. I had the thought, That could have been me, but it was quickly followed with Oh God, and a wave of nausea. I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment, so I escaped the horror pretty easily.

The thought that looms in the single person's mind is always, He found something in someone else that he didn't find in me. And he married her. I was lucky to not have this thought haunt me. My dating career in college was stellar: the longest I went without a date in college was 3 weeks. I met some wonderful and interesting people and I never regretted who I gave my heart to. I was too busy to worry about Jamie. Besides, I never liked him that much.

The second event that engages the idea to interact head-on with an oven is the ex with the kid. This one happened last week. My mother informs me of the kid in her kindergarten art class who looks exactly like his father and has his last name.

Lets have a quick math lesson:

The father and I are both 24; the kid is 5. This means the child was born when he was 19. We dated when I was 18.

This one hits a little too close for comfort.

My mother says he has the same freckles his father has.

I always loved freckles.