"I will not apologize for waiting," says the Old Maid
"I am determined that only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony. So, I shall end an old maid, and teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very ill."
-Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice
Like many women my age (and more men than most would admit), I am a huge Jane Austen fan and have been for many years. Whether I am re-devouring the books or sighing and daydreaming with the movies, her storylines are still so universally applicable to relationships and the longing people feel for them. They are clever, witty, sardonic, true. And I'm not going to lie, one of my favorite tools she employs is her biting sarcasm and her parody of the class system and the eternal struggle for a well-paying and bearable marriage.
So, this is nothing new. Austen fans surround the world. But one such insistence placed upon her in her life in 1800's England that is (unfortunately) still present is a woman's age, and therefore her probability of getting married or attracting any man at all. 27 years old was considered a death sentence in Austen's time. The "bloom" of youth was long past, and if you hadn't already ensnared yourself a man, you were unlikely ever to based solely on the number of winters you'd passed. You were bound to become a spinster, a shrewish aunt whiling your days away with embroidery, harsh critiques of your nieces and nephews, and the amount of money in your coffer, having to solely depend on your family's extent of generosity in order to feed and support yourself.
Fast forward a couple of centuries. Picture a beautiful mountain range, a good plate of food, and family. While visiting my grandparents up in their cabin, my cousin and I started talking when out of the blue, he turns to me and asks, "When are you going to find a cute guy and settle down and get hitched?" After the initial cold-water shock of the question, I mumbled some answer about having looked for said cute guy and that I'm still waiting for the right one to make a move.
Shall I tell him how I'd had my heart shattered in college by said search for the cute guy? Shall I tell him it was the kind of heartbreak that not only steals your sleep but wracks you with so many sobs you thought you would have been able to dry yourself out?
Two years later, I still remember him asking me that. In college, my grandmother would harp on me nearly every time I visited, asking if I had a boyfriend yet. Nope, not yet. But I've still got time, right? I'm still in college. There's still hope. There's still time.
I've endured the post-college crash and am finally coming out the other side of it, and out of all of the objections, this one still remains. I won't lie, my age does bother me. I am 25 years old, just a couple months from turning 26, and the twists and turns of the insanity of my life haven't yet led me in the direction of the blessing at the altar. Not from lack of effort, let me assure you. But after having been cheated on, lied to, manipulated, and emotionally abused, I have surrendered my arms and have given them up to God. Goodness knows any time I put any sort of effort into this, it turns around and bites me. I've tried the online dating, I've tried the organic meeting through friends. So I will throw myself onto God's providence, begging Him that if such a marriage partner exists, to bring him into my path and to please use a Divine megaphone to announce him.
I just love the looks I get from people when I say that. "I'm waiting for God to lead him onto my path." This truly isn't meant as a fatalistic, "God-will-do-everything-I-don't-have-to-lift-a-finger" mentality. It is genuine as it stands. I've reached my hand out when I thought lasting love had been found, and I am tired of ripping my hand out of the bear traps. So I've surrendered, having no further course of action. But oh man, the looks people give you when you explain that. This look is given to you if you talk about surrendering to God's will in any form, but for whatever reason especially with regards to your martial state. Newsflash, said naysayers. Body language and facial expressions speak volumes far more than your words ever could. And your expression says it all. "You're just not trying hard enough." "Oh, well that's too bad. Not surprising though." "Oh well. You're smart enough. You'll manage without a husband." No one has said these exact words to me, but oh boy did they exclaim them with everything else at their disposal.
We are encouraged as Christian, God-fearing women to have standards, high standards, in regards to men and marriage. We are chided constantly for our poor choices in clothing, in public appearance, in reputation, and in relationships. You didn't dress accordingly, oh, well no good man for you. You didn't blush and trip over yourself changing your likes and dislikes to match his perfectly. Too bad. You didn't allow yourself to be obedient and trodden on for the sake of future security and for biological reproduction. Guess you're out of the gene pool. So, we dive in, going against such rigid requirements, and get our hearts broken. You can almost hear the world shout in unison: "That's what you get for not having higher standards! Go nurse your broken heart alone since we've already warned you." And as years pass, and your age increases, so does society's condemnation of your marital state increase. You wouldn't marry the first guy who winked at you? Well, it's your own fault for being so picky. But make sure you stick to your standards.
I will not apologize for waiting. I will not gravel for the approval of my elders because I didn't marry the first man that proposed to me (yes, I have been proposed to). I will not kiss the boots of those who judge me because I wasn't out and having babies at 21 like they wanted, or like I wanted.
I will also not apologize for wanting this life for more years I've lost count. I will not apologize for my heart's longing call, wanting such companionship, friendship, and life, the fulfillment of my hopes since I was five years old.
Is there something wrong with me? Probably (she says self-depracatingly). Am I not attractive enough by the sex culture's standards to obtain a man willing to commit? Eh, yeah. I wouldn't doubt it. Will I give up on the dreams I've had since I was old enough to dream?
Hell no.
So back off. I'm 25, and still long for the adventurous fairytale I dreamed of as a child. And I will keep dreaming, and keep fighting, and keep holding my heart for the right man whose hands were meant to hold it.
-Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice
Like many women my age (and more men than most would admit), I am a huge Jane Austen fan and have been for many years. Whether I am re-devouring the books or sighing and daydreaming with the movies, her storylines are still so universally applicable to relationships and the longing people feel for them. They are clever, witty, sardonic, true. And I'm not going to lie, one of my favorite tools she employs is her biting sarcasm and her parody of the class system and the eternal struggle for a well-paying and bearable marriage.
So, this is nothing new. Austen fans surround the world. But one such insistence placed upon her in her life in 1800's England that is (unfortunately) still present is a woman's age, and therefore her probability of getting married or attracting any man at all. 27 years old was considered a death sentence in Austen's time. The "bloom" of youth was long past, and if you hadn't already ensnared yourself a man, you were unlikely ever to based solely on the number of winters you'd passed. You were bound to become a spinster, a shrewish aunt whiling your days away with embroidery, harsh critiques of your nieces and nephews, and the amount of money in your coffer, having to solely depend on your family's extent of generosity in order to feed and support yourself.
Fast forward a couple of centuries. Picture a beautiful mountain range, a good plate of food, and family. While visiting my grandparents up in their cabin, my cousin and I started talking when out of the blue, he turns to me and asks, "When are you going to find a cute guy and settle down and get hitched?" After the initial cold-water shock of the question, I mumbled some answer about having looked for said cute guy and that I'm still waiting for the right one to make a move.
Shall I tell him how I'd had my heart shattered in college by said search for the cute guy? Shall I tell him it was the kind of heartbreak that not only steals your sleep but wracks you with so many sobs you thought you would have been able to dry yourself out?
Two years later, I still remember him asking me that. In college, my grandmother would harp on me nearly every time I visited, asking if I had a boyfriend yet. Nope, not yet. But I've still got time, right? I'm still in college. There's still hope. There's still time.
I've endured the post-college crash and am finally coming out the other side of it, and out of all of the objections, this one still remains. I won't lie, my age does bother me. I am 25 years old, just a couple months from turning 26, and the twists and turns of the insanity of my life haven't yet led me in the direction of the blessing at the altar. Not from lack of effort, let me assure you. But after having been cheated on, lied to, manipulated, and emotionally abused, I have surrendered my arms and have given them up to God. Goodness knows any time I put any sort of effort into this, it turns around and bites me. I've tried the online dating, I've tried the organic meeting through friends. So I will throw myself onto God's providence, begging Him that if such a marriage partner exists, to bring him into my path and to please use a Divine megaphone to announce him.
I just love the looks I get from people when I say that. "I'm waiting for God to lead him onto my path." This truly isn't meant as a fatalistic, "God-will-do-everything-I-don't-have-to-lift-a-finger" mentality. It is genuine as it stands. I've reached my hand out when I thought lasting love had been found, and I am tired of ripping my hand out of the bear traps. So I've surrendered, having no further course of action. But oh man, the looks people give you when you explain that. This look is given to you if you talk about surrendering to God's will in any form, but for whatever reason especially with regards to your martial state. Newsflash, said naysayers. Body language and facial expressions speak volumes far more than your words ever could. And your expression says it all. "You're just not trying hard enough." "Oh, well that's too bad. Not surprising though." "Oh well. You're smart enough. You'll manage without a husband." No one has said these exact words to me, but oh boy did they exclaim them with everything else at their disposal.
We are encouraged as Christian, God-fearing women to have standards, high standards, in regards to men and marriage. We are chided constantly for our poor choices in clothing, in public appearance, in reputation, and in relationships. You didn't dress accordingly, oh, well no good man for you. You didn't blush and trip over yourself changing your likes and dislikes to match his perfectly. Too bad. You didn't allow yourself to be obedient and trodden on for the sake of future security and for biological reproduction. Guess you're out of the gene pool. So, we dive in, going against such rigid requirements, and get our hearts broken. You can almost hear the world shout in unison: "That's what you get for not having higher standards! Go nurse your broken heart alone since we've already warned you." And as years pass, and your age increases, so does society's condemnation of your marital state increase. You wouldn't marry the first guy who winked at you? Well, it's your own fault for being so picky. But make sure you stick to your standards.
I will not apologize for waiting. I will not gravel for the approval of my elders because I didn't marry the first man that proposed to me (yes, I have been proposed to). I will not kiss the boots of those who judge me because I wasn't out and having babies at 21 like they wanted, or like I wanted.
I will also not apologize for wanting this life for more years I've lost count. I will not apologize for my heart's longing call, wanting such companionship, friendship, and life, the fulfillment of my hopes since I was five years old.
Is there something wrong with me? Probably (she says self-depracatingly). Am I not attractive enough by the sex culture's standards to obtain a man willing to commit? Eh, yeah. I wouldn't doubt it. Will I give up on the dreams I've had since I was old enough to dream?
Hell no.
So back off. I'm 25, and still long for the adventurous fairytale I dreamed of as a child. And I will keep dreaming, and keep fighting, and keep holding my heart for the right man whose hands were meant to hold it.
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