DEAR DIARY,
I just went to Dallas to see my dear friend Lauree. I’m so happy that she lives closer than Czech Republic (where we met) or Oregon (where she’s from ), so that we actually get to have an in-person friendship! Lauree is amazing. She’s one of those cool people who you’re like, “wow, I can’t believe I get to be her friend.” We are a great duo. We can motivate, encourage, and inspire each other, having the hard, tearful talks or laughing until we pee a little, and then have a mini dance party while in the restaurant parking lot. We fit.
Lauree is getting married. She’s engaged to Brian, who I also have come to enjoy. I am so stinkin excited for her. And I absolutely mean that. I’m not the girl saying, “I’m so happy for you!” in a high-pitched voice, head cocked, mouth-strained just because it’s the thing you’re supposed to say to be polite. I mean it when I say I’m happy for her. I love my friend, and her happiness means a lot to me. Her joy is mine, and I know it’s reciprocated because she is fantastic at telling me and showing me how much she cares. #friendshipgoals
It’s a little difficult, though. Lauree is no longer one of my single friends. She will soon be part of a pair, a buy one-get one situation. I have very few unmarried and unbabied friends, so I’m grieving the loss of another single friend. I know she will still be my friend, and I know this means I’ve gained a Brian (and Brian, a Brittney...you’re welcome Bri-Bri). It’s just different. I have to share her, which is not my strong suit.
Her soon-to-change Facebook marital status also brings my status to the front of my mind. It’s hard to not go down the dark hole of 30-something-single-girl self pity. It’s difficult to not feel more alone in the singles club--a club which you didn’t mean to form, or even want to, but found yourself a part of regardless. I’m not jealous because, as I said, I am genuinely, joyfully happy for my friend. It’s more a sadness that creeps in...sad that I don’t have that yet.
Yet.
I’ve been living in contentment for a while now. I’m more confident, and secure in who I am, than I have ever been. Though, I can so easily allow myself to wallow in my singleness and how my desire to be married hasn’t been met yet. That dark hole is comfortable. It’s like that old, ragged sweatshirt you love to put on right when the leaves start to change and the wind becomes crisp. It’s familiar and cozy, but also ill-fitting, worn out, maybe a little skunky, and you’ve outgrown it. OR I can live in the now, in the real season I am in. I want to wear that new, super soft sweatshirt that fits me just right. Plus, if you’re a single guy or girl, wouldn’t you want the content, confident person rather than the wallower? I want a man who is secure in who he is and where he’s at in life, not one who is desperate to fill a void.
As I watched Lauree try on her wedding dress I started to tear up. There’s a hint of sadness because it’s not my turn. There’s a tug at my heart because the chapter of “we’re in this single thing together” is coming to a close and our relationship is changing. Above all else, though, there’s joy and excitement for my friend, whom I love. She has found her person and is happy, content, and confident. I allowed myself to feel all the emotions because that’s what the healthy me needs. Then I hugged Lauree, told her she’s beautiful--because she is--and told her how happy I am for her--because I am.