I don’t know.
I am 30. A girl you may know or may not – doesn’t matter.
I was 20 when I lost my virginity to a man. I'm still not sure if I can call him a man. At that point, I wanted to marry him, settle down, have a family. Everyone told it was wrong. That he was the wrong guy. Of course, he was. I didn’t realize.
At 24, I realized I had fucked up my conventional career already. The “Man” was gone. I didn’t know what to do in my life, but the quest for love continued.
At 25, I was way past the score of 3. I am talking of three guys in just 5 years. In your mind, I am either a ‘lost case’ or is probably someone who doesn’t know how to control hormones.
At 26, I was again in love. I moved in with him. Stay together for good two years before I realized this isn’t what I was looking for. I wanted something more than a marriage, a baby. I dumped him too.
At 30, I'm in a relationship of two years, and I am still not sure if this is “The” man. Yes, we are pretty much in love, have supported each other in the hard days, but there’s always a question in my head – “Do I really want to marry him?” What's the point of all this?
Perhaps, I am trying to say is – I am not sure of anything in my life. I am a confused dickhead, who was and is still confused. Doesn’t make me better or worse than you. I don’t know if marrying a guy or giving birth to a baby solves my existential crisis
or am I just running away from responsibility? I, again, don’t know.
This brings me to an important question – “Is it okay to not know at 30?” I don’t know again.
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