The Beginning of the End

It's started. The beginning of the end of singledom (aka "the funnest years of your life"). Two of my dearest and closest friends have gone off and gotten engaged, breaking what I thought was our unspoken but clearly understood pact to all stay single for as long as possible. I am ecstatic for T, whose engagement is one we were all hoping for and anticipating in the last couple months (I'm also thrilled and grateful that I was home and got the news personally rather than by email while in some far-flung locale). I am also ecstatic for C (although also totally shocked because I thought if anyone would hold out on the institution of marriage, it would be C) and looking forward to catching up when she zips through town in a couple weeks. I'm thrilled at their happiness, happy that they've found the people they want to embark on the lifelong journey of marriage with, and excited that they are entering a new phase of their lives.

However, I would be lying if I didn't also admit that I felt a slight twinge of sadness that their engagements basically signal the end of an era in our lives. The singularly fabulous era called singledom, which is wonderful for its ups and downs, its break-ups and make-ups, the various boys and men that come in and out of our lives, both the amazing and horrendous first date tales, the crushes, flings, relationships, heartaches and true loves we go through...together. Because singledom is not really about being single, but about friendship. I think the single years are some of the best, funnest, funniest, most memorable and most poignant years in a friendship. You go through a lot of crazy shit together. You dance on tabletops, drink too much and get tequila goggles, make questionable dating choices and somewhere in all that disaster have some of the funnest times of your life. You are there for each other through bad dates, heartbreaks, the various stages of true love (or not-true-love, whatever the case may be), etc.

In the words of Sex and the City (which is amazing for its uncanny ability to nail friendship, dating and relationships so well):

Charlotte: Don't laugh at me, but maybe we can be each other's soul mates? And then, we could let men be just these great, nice guys to have fun with.

Samantha: Well...that sounds like a plan.

So I ask...what happened to the plan? On the one hand, maybe your friends do stay your soul mates even after you get married to the great, nice guy to have fun with. But I think that if one ever makes the decision to get married, it should be because they've found their soul/life mate, and your relationship with your soul/life mate should come before all others, even your friends. (so basically, chicks before dicks (or bros before hoes) applies during your single days, but once you are married, you and your partner really become one unit, so that relationship should come above all) So I think what makes me a teeny bit wistful, even amidst my true happiness and well wishes for my dear friends, is that marriage is the end of the era when you are each other's soulmates.

But...oh boo hoo. It's not the time to be sad for myself, it's the time to celebrate my friends' happy news. So I say...let the visits to the wedding dress shops, bridesmaid's duties, bachelorette party-planning, invitation stuffing, etc. begin!