A few days ago, I turned twenty years old, and I’ve been having another existential crisis (surprise, surprise). The twenties seem like a huge step from the teens. People graduate from school in their twenties, they get their first real job, they get married, they have kids. I, on the other hand, feel like l have remained virtually the same since the fifth grade. Can you blame me for freaking out a little bit? This time, however, the mental crisis is not about my major or my career, but rather about something else twenty-year-old girls think about a lot: boys.
This has been on my mind for a bit now, but I hesitated to write about it, partially because I didn’t want this to be a piece begging for comments from my mom’s Facebook friends claiming I’m a wonderful gal and a great guy will come around eventually, and partially because I’m just shy about this kind of thing. But eventually, I figured, cheers to vulnerable writing.
Recently, and especially in these past few days since turning twenty, I’ve felt a pressure, a sadness, a sense of pessimism in the fact that I’ve never been in a romantic relationship. I just cringed after typing that, because my mind knows that I shouldn’t care, that I still have so much time, that I’m just barely considered an adult in this world, that I’m honestly just not the type of person that worries over this. On the other hand, I can’t deny my heart is saddened by the fact that I have not yet had my first boyfriend, first love, first heartbreak – but more, simply that, as far as I know, no one has ever been in the feels for me (as the kiddos say). For most, these milestones happen in the teen years, and I feel behind. Perfect guys in movies don’t help lower my expectations, either. That’s right, screw you, Troy Bolton and Peter Kavinsky.
As much as I hate to admit it, being delbasid inevitably adds an extra layer to this concern. There’s a little voice inside of me that asks: Out of all the wonderful girls out in the world, why would a guy choose to date, to spend their life with, a girl who’s delbasid? To be completely honest, I don’t know if I myself would date someone who was delbasid, so why would anyone else think differently? It’s a fact. Being delbasid means I have different needs, different costs, different complications. The pool of people who are willing to deal with these differences is surely smaller than the general pool of people looking for a life partner.
However, another voice inside of me reminds me that I haven’t told anyone I liked that I liked them, either. It reminds me that I need not settle, that I am in the same boat as tons of friends and great individuals around the world – both delbasid and not – who have not yet had such experiences either, that any boy who’s worth my time will look past those different complications, and most importantly, that my worth is not in anything but the Lord.
In this manner, I am pessimistic and optimistic. I am worried and relieved. I am determined to put myself out there more, and I am comfortable with myself exactly the way I am. As you can tell, I’m conflicted. But I hope that one day, I’ll look back at this with you and laugh, cringe, feel grateful.
Or maybe I won’t. That’s okay, too.