Love is in the Air
I know many people who have gotten engaged within the past two months. The list includes Toasteroven, a cousin of mine, two of Melyngoch’s old roommates, another Friend of Brick House and four couples in my ward (That’s four couples, not four people. That may not seem like a lot for a BYU ward, but my ward out here is pretty small. Plus the people who’ve gotten engaged to people not in the ward. Plus that one couple that keeps pretending to be engaged.)
The odd thing is that I’m genuinely happy for them, instead of being vaguely annoyed, which is my usual reaction. It’s not that I’m so bitter at being single. (I am acquainted with many gentlemen of the single persuasion, but am pining for none of them.) It’s that any new addition to club married is a potentially smug married, and I am oh, so tired of smug married folk.
Of course, one doesn’t actually have to be married to be smug. I have a cousin, two years younger, who spent much of our college years reminding me that she was definitely going to get married before me. (And graduate before me. And have kids before me. And have more kids than me. She’s a tad competitive.) In the two years since I’ve seen her, she has, indeed, made good on the first promise. And now that they've moved back to Provo, I will probably be spending some time with her in the next couple of weeks. I am not really looking forward to this.
I have half a hope that she’ll still be in some sort of dazed newlywed bliss, and will consequently leave me alone to talk to my aunts and uncles and other cousins. (Who will, doubtless, grill me on whether or not I’m dating anyone.)
But I’m very happy for my newly engaged friends, in large part because I know they’ve gone through prior breakups and heartache; they deserve to be happy. (And perhaps those who’ve been through a little more pain will turn out a little less smug. One can hope.)