You’re never going to believe this.
You’re going to get married when you’re 27 — to a guy you meet in college.
Yep. No free-wheeling single 20s for you. No staying out at bars and clubs all night every weekend (you verrrry quickly get over the club scene. You itch to go dancing once in awhile, but after 30 minutes in a typical night club, you’re usually dying to either go home or go to a chill, quiet bar where you can enjoy a good beer). No carefully decorating your oh-so-cute apartment all by yourself. No up and moving every couple years just because you get the urge to try something new.
Don’t worry. You end up in San Diego, at least for a good while, so it’s not like you’re stuck somewhere awful like Fresno or Kansas.
And your husband? He’s pretty amazing. And pretty perfect for you. I mean, it’s not like every single little thing about your relationship is perfect (duh), but you definitely can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else. He makes you laugh — so hard — and makes you feel safe and never lets you doubt for a second that you’re loved. Bottom line, you’ll be happy every time you lie down in bed next to him.
Oh yeah — and you’re going to run a marathon. Two, actually. (Then you’ll almost swear them off forever.)
But that’s not the main point I want to make. Well, it’s part of it. The thing is — literally nothing in your life turns out the way you expect.
That sweet editorial job with a magazine? Well, you might still get there one day, but no.
The traveling? Sadly, not so much.
The not settling down, never having kids? No kids as of yet, but they’re most likely in the future. And — get this — you’re actually kinda excited about it. (You’re partly terrified and dreading it, too. But that part is getting smaller and smaller and the excited part is starting to take over.)
Buying a super sweet condo or townhome in a fun, happening metropolis? HAHAHAHAHAHA. Sorry.
You do buy your own truck. Which is pretty sweet. You’re still holding out for your Jeep.
You do study abroad in college. But in Copenhagen, not France or England. (By the way, Copenhagen’s in Denmark, which is a tiny peninsula and bunch of islands above Germany, near Sweden. Learn geography, for God’s sake.) And it’s seriously one of the best years of your life — and indirectly leads to you meeting your husband.
I won’t say any more about that, because that whole thing does catch you totally off guard, in the most amazing way.
You find yourself liking country music. And going to several country concerts. I KNOW.
You definitely ditch your picky eater ways and start trying and eating almost anything (you still draw the line at pickles and olives). And thank God for that, because Europe (and Costa Rica) is SO much more fun when you’re open to trying whatever the local specialty is.
Now, if I can give you some advice?
Try to open up to people. I know you’re scared to do that and I know why, so do it carefully, but sometimes it can work out. Honest.
Keep in touch with your friends. You need to be proactive about this. Don’t stress so much and just do it.
Keep writing. Write like a motherfucker, as they say nowadays. Please.
Floss. And wear sunscreen.
Late 20s Allison
P.S. You do get your own dog. Look forward to that.