I planned on getting married by the time I turned 20. I'd dated the same boy for over a year, I'd been close friends with him for seven years, and it all made sense. He knew which rings I liked. Our families and our church were on board. Everything was perfect. And I was miserable.
I'd spent all of high school looking forward to the freedom of college, and suddenly I found myself semi-permanently attached to a boy and a plan. I kept thinking about opportunities I'd be missing out on… and worrying he might not be the right person for me. So I ended things.
Eight years later, I'm still not married. I'd tell you it's been awesome, but you probably wouldn't believe me. Society, and particularly the church, seems so uncomfortable with singleness. By the time we hit quarter-life, friendly faces are ready to pair us off at any moment, as if being single necessarily means we're incomplete. Some even come at us with warnings that we'll become ...1