I don't (at least for now)
The sharp ring of the doorbeli filled the house as I opened the front door. A wisp of cool air caressed my cheek as my childhood friend Michelle, stepped into the entryway. She turned towards me with bright eyes and the hint of a smile and quickly lifted up her left hand. I looked, and a clear, sparkling diamond stared back at me. Her boyfriend Andy had finally popped the question. I gave the girl who used to dump snow cones down my back at the swimming pool snack bar an enormous hug and asked for all of the details.
As I lay in bed later that night I stared into the blackness thinking, "there goes number three." My three closest friends are all getting married within the next year. I will have to buy three bridesmaid dresses, watch as three of the people I care most about in this world embrace their lifelong partners and accept the fact that no one will be waiting at home to hug me in my beautiful new dresses.
I was happy for my friends because they were all lucky enough to find someone they truly loved, but I felt lost. My boyfriend and I had recently broken up. Though I rarely admitted it, deep down I thought that he was my soulmate and that we would get married someday. After our painful split I started to go through a spell where I felt sorry for myself. I knew plenty of girls enjoyed being single. I also knew I might meet other men that I would want to date. But instead I felt empty and alone.
A few days after Michelle announced her engagement, I left my home in Kansas and headed to Washington, D.C., for a two-week internship at the American Bankers Association. The weather was surprisingly warm for January, so I was able to spend the majority of my first weekend sightseeing outdoors. During my first afternoon in D.C. I walked around downtown. As I approached the White House, I noticed bright orange cones and police officers blocking off a large portion of the road and sidewalk in front of the lawn. Hundreds of people lingered nearby, staring at the president's home. I stopped to take a picture and see what the commotion was about. It turns out everyone was looking at a large, greenish-brown helicopter. I couldn't believe it. On my first day in D.C. I saw the president's helicopter take off from the White House lawn! The exciting atmosphere of the city overwhelmed me.
My internship at the association started on Monday and kept me busy with challenging projects. I spent two weeks writing articles about issues concerning bankers, editing a newspaper, discussing the financial education of college students and meeting interesting people.
One afternoon, toward the end of my two weeks, I sat in my gray cubicle staring absentmindedly at my computer screen. Despite the seemingly drab surroundings, I felt happy and contented for the first time in months.I realized that I had fallen in love with the city, that I enjoyed working and that nothing could prevent me
from coming back after I graduated in May. Suddenly, not having a boyfriend seemed like a good thing. I could move wherever I wanted because I didn't have someone else's future to worry about. My engaged friends couldn't just pick up and move if a job opened up in a different city — their future husbands would have to find work there, too. They wouldn't have the opportunity that I had to pursue their dreams without worrying about someone else's needs.
That day I stopped mourning my broken heart. I stopped
That day I stopped mourning my broken heart. I stopped comparing my life to the direction of my friends' lives. Instead, I started embracing the chances I have. I am moving to Washington, D.C., in May, and I am proud to say that I am going alone.
- Melissa Frankel can be reached at mfrankel@kansan.com.
3.4.04 Jayplay
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