A quarter of a century.
A few years back, I have seen myself already married by the age of 25. As I write this today, a few weeks before my 26th birthday, I am still unmarried and is in more doubt about my weary existence in this world than ever before.
I realize that I am setting new standards for myself as I grow older. Love is not enough for people to get married but I do not also consent to the idea of treating marriage like some business deal with too much scheming and plotting.
I want it to be offered to me for reasons that are beyond me, and not because I just met certain requirements or qualifications. Or because I could fulfill certain conditions. I would want to spend the rest of my life with someone who truly and sincerely wants to be with me, not because I am just a piece that would complete his master plan.
I still believe that one day, when I least expect it, someone would come along and ask me to be his wife. It would be the most pleasant surprise in my whole life, and I am sure I won’t have the heart to turn it down.
I want my own love story to be good, worth telling to the world…
I could never have that if I were just a piece in a plan, or if I were just someone who’s not worth being accepted despite the short comings and mistakes, or if I were not worth being loved unconditionally.