There comes a time in life when one may suddenly realize the years are slipping by more quickly than before and he/she stops, pauses, and mentally yanks out the list of “things not yet accomplished.” Perhaps with panic, his/her eyes center on one of the unchecked items closer to the top of the list–i.e., marriage, children. For many, this state of anxiety occurs late twenties to early thirties and soon all attention is focused on finding the “one.”
For me however, the marriage, children box is way down on my list. And I am now at that ripe old age of 30, when many females tend to feel bad about being single. While they’re worried about their ticking clocks and making mad rushes to find the perfect men, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up and planning my next travel escape.
Recently friends have suggested now is the time for a romantic rendezvous. If anything, I believe it is the absolute wrong time.
I’m not bragging and I’m not trying to prove something to anyone but myself. We all have stories we leave behind, chapters must come to an end, but who’s to say the next chapter (perhaps going solo) isn’t going to be greater than anything we could have imagined?
Due to reading too many romance novels in my teenage years (thank you, Auntie Donna and Auntie Mary) there are moments where I fantasize about some exotic stranger coming along and sweeping me off my feet as we ride off to the ends of the Earth. Actually, maybe my blogs would be more exciting if I had intercultural dating woes and scandalous things to report on–nevertheless, right now it’s completely amazing to be where I am, doing what I’m doing. Alone.
Whether I’m riding an elephant through the jungles of Northern Thailand, island hopping in the Philippines, or driving up precarious Taiwanese mountains roads on my little red scooter, there’s great satisfaction in knowing with faith as a guide, I have this strength.
It’s something I think all single women (and men) should try at least once in their lives.