This morning I finished reading The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides and its general relevance to my life has had me thinking. For those who haven't/won't read it, it's about a collegiate love triangle in the mid-1980s: a young woman who loves her Austen and [George] Eliot and her two "suitors," the charismatic bipolar scientist and the soulful drifting searcher who happen to both study literary theory (ok Eugenides, did you read my moleskine before writing this?). Having dated or sought after guys with these qualities more often than not (and not particularly warming to theory as much as plot and prose), I lapped up the book in long hour+ reading sessions. It reminded me of college, of the confusion of post-college life, the yearning for someone that you're convinced is perfect for you. I found myself identifying with different characters in different ways and thinking about what I've done and how it could have been better or worse (luckily, I usually look back and think it could have been worse).

As you might imagine from the title, marriage and "coupling" are important aspects of the book. At this very single period of my life, I don't often think about marriage in a tangible way. My step-aunt (is that even a thing?) asked me over Thanksgiving if I want kids and I said, I wasn't sure. I say I'm not sure because I don't know the circumstances under which I would have kids. Who would their father be? Where would they live? Would they have a good life? If I can't answer those questions, then I don't see how I can answer the first. For many friends in my cohort, these things are much more tangible. Many of my friends have been blessed with partners who love them and treat them well and are, from all outward appearances, completely devoted to them. And there are moments when all I feel for them is envy. I find things about their partners to dislike and criticize and harp on. I assume that the bad things that happened to me will happen to them. The alcohol problem will turn into a cheating problem, the stubborn elitism will turn into disdain, the immaturity will turn into carelessness. Out of my brother and I, he was always the cynical one. Now I'm perceived as hardened and cynical by him and most likely my parents. I used to think that changed when I moved to London. I blamed it on being surrounded by English people. I think now it happened earlier than that. It happened when the possibility of a fairy tale ended. When I realized that all the things that I could say to someone or could be said to me could lose their meaning. And when I never really found anything resembling it again.

Every year, my family watches White Christmas on or around Christmas. This year was no exception and I took particular note of the relationship between Betty (Rosemary Clooney) and Bob (Bing Crosby). Betty thinks of men as knights on white steeds and a misunderstanding causes Bob to fall off his in her eyes. Because it's a movie, he rights himself and it all ends ok (I apologize if this spoils the movie for anyone who hasn't seen it). And not that I should be garnering life philosophy from a movie musical from 1954, but I wonder if rather than being cynical or envious, I should just appreciate that my friends, who are not unlike me, are lucky enough to have found someone willing to get back on their steeds or stay up there to begin with. And hope that some day I'll be mature and fortunate enough to allow someone to do the same.