By Emira Sadat
Every little girl has, at some point, sat on the couch watching Say Yes to the Dress, wondering when it would be her turn. I was one of those girls, and it eventually turned into Pinterest boards filled with wedding venues, decorations, flowers, dresses, shoes, jewellery, and rings. All the tiny details that somehow make up this huge, perfect day. I used to think it was harmless. Maybe it was. But now I’m sitting here at twenty-two thinking, why am I curating my wedding when I’m only twenty-two?
A few months ago, I deleted my wedding Pinterest board. Not because I stopped believing in love, not because I was heartbroken, and not because I had suddenly decided I never wanted to get married. I deleted it because I suddenly realised: why am I rushing? I’m twenty-two. Twenty-two. There are so many people I haven’t met, so many places I haven’t been, so many friendships I haven’t made, and so many versions of myself I haven’t discovered. There are so many whys, wheres, whats, and whos left before I turn grey. And yet, somehow, I’ve spent so much time imagining the ending: the husband, the wedding, the life, the house, the person beside me. As if I need to know who I’ll be at thirty before I’ve even figured out who I am at twenty-two.
Maybe I don’t need to know.
Sometimes I wish I could time travel and sit my mum down before she got married. I’d probably grab her by the shoulders and say, “STOP THE WEDDING!” Run, my girl. Go. Travel wherever your heart takes you. Meet people who will completely change the way you see the world. Do things just because you can. Live your heart out. I wish I could save her from feeling like she had to figure everything out so young. Not because I think her life turned out badly, but because I wonder what she might have done if she’d had more time to simply be young.
And the funny thing is, my mum is the one telling me to do exactly that now. She tells me to live my life, to go places, to experience things, to not rush. And for the first time, I think I actually want to listen.
I don’t know why I became so attached to this idea that I needed to be married. That somehow the ultimate destination was finding someone, becoming their girlfriend, their fiancée, their wife, and building a life around that. Maybe there is no terrible routine waiting for me on the other side of marriage. Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life, and it will be wonderful. Maybe I’ll have a beautiful marriage and love waking up next to the same person every morning. I don’t know. And that’s the point. I don’t know yet, and I don’t have to.
There was a line in the song that made me stop completely: “But you know how you really feel.” And I think that’s what scared me. I know that right now, I don’t want to be tied down. I know that if the person I’m currently seeing asked me to be his girlfriend tomorrow, I’d say no. Not because I don’t like him. I really, really do. I like where we are. There is something strangely comforting about not having to define everything. No boyfriend. No girlfriend. No promises about where this is going. Just two people enjoying each other and letting things exist as they are. And maybe that’s enough for me right now.
For the first time, I don’t feel like I need to turn something into a relationship just because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you like someone. And that feels different. Because I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about whether someone will choose me, whether they’ll stay, whether they’ll want something more, whether I’ll eventually become someone’s girlfriend, someone’s fiancée, someone’s wife.
But then I read this somewhere: “You’re chasing him, he’s chasing her, who’s chasing you? No one.”
And it made me laugh a little because… oh. Maybe I should be chasing me.
Maybe that’s what my twenties are actually for. Not waiting for someone to choose me. Not trying to convince someone to stay. Not building an entire future around the possibility of a man being in it. Maybe I’m supposed to be chasing the life I want: my friendships, my career, the places I’ve never been, the girls’ trips that haven’t happened yet, the nights I’ll remember forever, and the versions of myself I haven’t met. Maybe I should be figuring out what kind of woman I want to become before worrying about whose wife I’m going to be.
And that’s the strange thing about growing up. Sometimes you think you’re becoming more certain, when really, you’re just becoming more comfortable saying, “I don’t know yet”.
I don’t know if I’ll want to get married. I don’t know if I’ll want children. I don’t know where I’ll live. I don’t know who I’ll be in ten years.
Maybe I’ll make another wedding Pinterest board when I’m ready. Maybe I’ll make one at twenty-seven. Maybe thirty. Maybe never. But I don’t want to make it because I’m scared I’m falling behind. I don’t want to put on a white dress because everyone is waiting for me to walk down the aisle. I don’t want to wake up one day, years from now, and realise I spent my twenties preparing for a life I never stopped to ask myself whether I actually wanted.
I want to live first. I want to be selfish with my time. I want to be young. I want to go places because I can. I want to stay out too late with my friends. I want to make mistakes that don’t make sense on paper. I want to meet people who completely change the way I see the world. I want to fall in love with things that have nothing to do with romance. I want to know who I am when I’m not someone’s girlfriend, someone’s fiancée, someone’s wife or someone’s girl at all. I just want to be me.
And if someone happens to be beside me while I’m doing all of that, then that’s lovely. If one day I want him to stay, I’ll ask him to stay. If one day I want commitment, I’ll choose it. If one day I want the wedding, I’ll make the Pinterest board again. Because if it is love that is meant to be, then it was meant to be. There is no rush. I don’t have to force the timing. I don’t have to chase it. I don’t have to spend my youth preparing for something just because I know I might want it one day. Maybe what is meant for me will still be there when I’m ready. And if it isn’t, then maybe it wasn’t meant for me after all.
For now, I’m putting the dress away. Not because I hate it. Not because I’m afraid of it. Just because I’m not ready to wear it. The table can wait. The guests can wait. The wedding can wait. I’ve got somewhere else to be. I’ve got a life to live. And for once, I think I want to chase myself there.
Maybe you’re reading this, and you’re twenty-two, or twenty-seven, or thirty-five, or forty-five, and there’s a little voice in the back of your head asking, is this really what I want? Maybe you’ve already built the Pinterest board. Maybe you’ve already set the table. Maybe you’ve already spent years walking toward a future simply because you’ve been walking toward it for so long. But I think we forget that we’re allowed to stop. You have time to change your mind. You have time to leave the table. You have time to take the dress off. You have time to say, actually, this isn’t what I want anymore. You have time to choose yourself.
You don’t have to know what comes next. You don’t have to burn your whole life down. You don’t have to run from love. You just have to listen to yourself. Because the wedding doesn’t have to happen simply because the table is set and everyone is waiting. The Pinterest board can wait. The dress can wait. The future can wait. There is no clock counting down to the moment you’re supposed to become someone’s wife, someone’s husband, someone’s anything.
You still have time to travel. You still have time to meet people who change the way you see the world. You still have time to become someone new. You still have time to choose a completely different life. And if one day you decide you want the wedding, you can walk back to the table. But if you’re standing there right now, heart pounding, looking at the dress and wondering if you really want to put it on, then maybe you should stop the wedding.
You have time.
