My sister called me at 10am this morning and told me she booked her wedding venue. I was thrilled for her, though in my groggy state I seemed more pissed than celebratory. I am thrilled for her though I’m back on the market, picking out the good pieces of pollo from the bad and hoping I don’t catch a bad case of relationship salmonella.
That’s what it feels like to be single again. At least that’s the case for me. I’ve been dating for 11 years and am ready to settle down, husband and a cute Sujeirita in tow. I witness other women choosing colors for their wedding, walking down the aisle to meet their fiancés-soon-to-be husbands, and later living a life filled with love, companionship, and trust. I walk down the aisle, in front of the bride, and stand by her side as her bridesmaid and Maid of Honor. I am never the bride. So yes, sometimes I feel a little groggy when listening to another blissful love story. Sometimes I am a little pissed when I see a Facebook relationship status update go from “In a relationship” to “Engaged” to “Married.” Wedding bells ring every day, and yet here I am back on the market, picking out the good pieces of pollo from the bad and hoping I don’t catch a bad case of relationship salmonella.
Still, I strive to be supportive. I hope to find the love of my life so I can plan my dream wedding. I know that day will come. Though at times I buckle under the pressure of singledome, sobbing at the thought of doing it all over again and fearing the worst, I know that day will come. I know I will don my beautiful white gown. I know I am meant to be more than Tia/Madrina and will one day be Mother/Grandmother. I have to be. If I don’t the salmonella will eventually get me, poisoning my insides and turning me into a monster. And that’s when all hope will be lost.