Since 2020, a ‘marriage predictions’ list has adorned the group description of my childhood friends’ WhatsApp chat. Our names are slotted in order of who we think will get hitched first to last. To no one’s surprise, through breakups, job changes, and geographical moves, my name has consistently remained in the top three, if not the first place. I’ve always dreamt of elaborate proposals, shared viral wedding videos, and meticulously crafted Pinterest moodboards, even forcing new friends to promise attendance at my hypothetical wedding. This obsession has been a constant, even in the absence of a potential husband.
At 26, I’m in a long-term relationship with my best friend, now partner, for almost three years. We’ve tested living together, our families adore each other, our finances are stable, and we’ve talked about marriage since day one. While we haven’t set a date, it’s happening soon, and everyone knows it. But as the wedding nears, a chilling dread has gripped me: being the first friend to tie the knot.
Most of my friends are content without marriage on their radar. They’re more focused on chasing careers, exploring their identities, and navigating relationships, while I’m caught in the whirlwind of planning a life-altering event. It’s a stark contrast: their ‘he’s hot, I’m bored’ versus my ‘let’s talk about mortgages and love languages.’
This fear stems from my deep-rooted need for relatability. I thrive on shared experiences and online discourse, always eager to dissect and discuss everything from films and music to memes and social media trends. This need for connection extends to my personal life. Last week, I revealed to my friends that I’d been stalking an ex on social media, and their comforting responses, echoing my own experiences, turned embarrassment into a badge of shared vulnerability.
Psychotherapist Eloise Skinner explains, “Relatability becomes the core of many friendships; it brings a feeling of belonging and solidarity, and helps us feel close to each other through shared experiences.” But in our mid-twenties, life paths begin to diverge, potentially fracturing close-knit groups. This fear of isolation fuels my anxiety. Will my wedding alienate me from my friends, leaving me with politely double-tapped memes instead of urgent responses?
I’ve witnessed this firsthand online and offline. After following a content creator for her dating drama, I lost interest when she married. Her posts felt irrelevant and boring, lacking the relatable chaos that drew me to her in the first place. This same dynamic played out in the reality show ‘Summer House,’ where Amanda Batula, the only married girlfriend, felt excluded from the gossip and bonding experiences shared by her single friends.
My own group holiday experience mirrored this. Even a brief two-night trip resulted in inside jokes I was excluded from because I slept with my partner. This fear of becoming the ‘milestone marker’ in my friend group, the ‘married’ one whose life looks different, is amplified by the societal pressure to ‘get your life together.’ Relationship counsellor Ruchi Ruuh understands my anxieties, but also reminds me that every decision doesn’t have to be about maintaining relatability. She encourages me to appreciate my own journey and acknowledge that not everyone needs to be deeply involved in every milestone.
While I understand her perspective, the thought of losing the ability to dissect and compare notes with my friends feels like a significant loss. The first time I tick the ‘married’ box on a form, the new weight of the word ‘husband,’ the shiver down my spine when introducing my partner – these are moments I yearn to share and be fully understood by my friends.
Despite these anxieties, I’m not delaying my wedding. But I can’t help but fantasize about an unexpected surprise proposal that would upend the ‘marriage predictions’ list, turning it into a narrative worthy of online discussion and shared laughter. After all, what’s more relatable than a good story?
