December is a challenging month. It really begins on Black Friday when retailers harpoon the American populous and wrench them into an economically stimulating frenzy. The number of shopping days left until Christmas is practically an apocalyptic countdown in my family. Forget the rapture. The real issue is “Did I buy enough wine bottle shaped gift bags?” This past December, however, presented a new and unexpected challenge. ‘Tis the season to be jolly…and get engaged.
I should have known that this was going to happen. As I creep ever closer to my mid-twenties, the pressure is building and more and more people are in serious relationships. Facebook is mainly to blame for this barrage of matrimony. Fifteen years ago, the people who you grew up with got engaged and married at the same rate and age. Social media has made getting engaged the top of our notifications list. It even pops up above the spot where today’s birthdays are listed. How bad could this really be? BAD. We’re talking between three and five engagements a week for a solid six week period.
Granted, being an active member of the theatre community and a part of an overly large public school system means that I have more Facebook friends than are truly necessary. This definitely skewed this influx in some way. Since there was such a large data pool to examine during this phenomenon, I decided to do a little research. How do I know these people? When was the last time we actually had a conversation? Do I know their intended spouse? Do they currently reside below the Mason-Dixon Line? The results were astonishing. Aside from one person, each of those engaged was someone whom I met and went to school with in Northern Virginia. Ah ha. It’s the southern air that is to blame.
Mostly these are people with whom I had a class or two in high school or we managed to survive the adventure that is a gifted and talented elementary school. Of my good friends from high school, two of them are currently engaged and these weren’t really surprises. A little more investigating revealed that none of these people were those whom I met after high school once I moved to New York. The New York gang seems to be on an altered timeline. The one where if you’re not engaged by twenty-five, it’s OK. In fact, if you are engaged at twenty-five, a lot of people might think you’re surrendering your twenties.
Now guys, I know how enticing it is to propose during the holiday season. You get to piggyback on the gleeful cheer and sugar induced happiness. Plus, she’s guaranteed to say yes. It’s all just so ‘magical’. But frankly, you’re only adding more stress to your plate. You may have just spent thousands of dollars on a ring, but she’s still going to want other presents. A diamond is not a ‘get out of jail free card’ for Christmas. Put a little creativity out there and spice up some of those other months of the year that don’t include a Hallmark holiday. Trust me, this will garner big time brownie points.
The holidays have now passed and the number of engagements has slowed to maybe one every week or so. I exchange an occasional text message with a good friend or two sounding the alarm when Facebook blurts the news in my face. It really is exciting and I hope I don’t get labeled as a cynic. I want to get married one day too. Just please, let me do it on New York time. We may have a reputation for a being a fast paced city that never sleeps, but this is one thing that we seem to take our time with. To my single friends living below that Mason-Dixon Line: Hang in there and godspeed.