Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get married.
It's not as though I sit around my apartment pining for a man or that I go out looking for a husband.
But recently I sat on my porch chatting with my next door neighbor who wed her fianc? in July.
Earlier, Ellen and I drove to the High Museum to see some art. While she drove, I asked her what if felt like being married.
She smiled and said she didn't feel any different, probably because she and her new husband had been together for at least a couple of years.
She told me she wished that she could tell me something had changed, but she felt nothing had.
But as I watched her mull over my question on how she felt about marriage, she smiled from ear to ear with a sparkle in her eye.
Now, Ellen is a pretty easy-going person from what I can tell. And maybe my judge of character isn't as good as I think it is (that would at least explain my last two boyfriends, hee-hee).
I can sense, though, that Ellen is in a comforting place, as she has "officially" merged her life with another.
I look at her calm demeanor, less with jealousy, and more with curiosity.
As I was told recently by a co-worker, I'm a spastic kind of girl with a lot of misdirected energy.
I fully agree with that assessment.
I couldn't imagine my life source being contained enough to share with another person.
My energy, if you will, is kind of like that bowl of gravy an old relative tries to pass you at Thanksgiving dinner. Their hands are so shaky that the gravy spills all over the sides of the bowl onto your mother's nice tablecloth that she only uses on special occasions.
Or you could compare my energy to an over-enthusiastic talker who invades your personal space. The yapper talks too close to your face, and you realize this because they continue to spray saliva in your eyes, your lips, etc.
Not to say that there aren't people who have similar temperaments as myself who don't get married. The divorce rate isn't over 50 percent for no reason.
It just fascinates me that people are willing to share themselves with one person no matter their dispositions.
Why spray it when she should be saying it?
There's a part of me that wants to keep working on myself so that when the "right" person comes along I'll be able to share the gravy without spilling it.
Trina Trice is the education reporter for the News Daily. Comments should be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org.