the club
So my best man was driving me home from my bachelor party, and something was missing. Something had been left undone, and I couldn't quite think of what. I mustered the courage to ask him if he had any final thoughts or advice, and he said no, we've chewed through a lot of stuff this weekend. Are you hinting at something? I said no, I just... well everyone married is in this club, right? They know things about life and relationship that I don't. I guess I'm waiting for someone to tell me what that is, since you know, I'll be getting into the club soon. He said nothing.
I said, it seems the further I get into this process, the more it seems like what they know isn't learned all at once. He said, it's true, there's no big bang. And as we pulled into my driveway, I thought, that's not it. But I don't know what is. We unpacked the car.
As he drove away, I realized: it's goodbye.
All the bachelor parties I've attended that weren't mine were permeated with a sense of sadness. A mourning for a friendship that was dying. The soon-to-be-ex-bachelor was getting his "sendoff," his "last chance." They were farewell parties for someone leaving the land of us lost little creatures, and going to the grey havens of married life where we could not follow. In typical fashion they would soon disappear from the social fabric, leaving us one short at all the parties.
I was waiting to feel that myself. To feel fear for the journey, the isolation of departure, the ache of a life moving steadily away from me through the window. But there was none of it. I won't miss unmarried life at first. I've really had plenty of it, and there was little left to accomplish there. It's time to grow up. And as the leaves must fall for the forest to spread, so my unmarried life falls away, and a seed is planted.
I said, it seems the further I get into this process, the more it seems like what they know isn't learned all at once. He said, it's true, there's no big bang. And as we pulled into my driveway, I thought, that's not it. But I don't know what is. We unpacked the car.
As he drove away, I realized: it's goodbye.
All the bachelor parties I've attended that weren't mine were permeated with a sense of sadness. A mourning for a friendship that was dying. The soon-to-be-ex-bachelor was getting his "sendoff," his "last chance." They were farewell parties for someone leaving the land of us lost little creatures, and going to the grey havens of married life where we could not follow. In typical fashion they would soon disappear from the social fabric, leaving us one short at all the parties.
I was waiting to feel that myself. To feel fear for the journey, the isolation of departure, the ache of a life moving steadily away from me through the window. But there was none of it. I won't miss unmarried life at first. I've really had plenty of it, and there was little left to accomplish there. It's time to grow up. And as the leaves must fall for the forest to spread, so my unmarried life falls away, and a seed is planted.