Lee Jackson contemplates a Jezebel writer’s realization that she is likely to die alone and unlamented:
Love and relationships are also, among other things, a marker of time. “Forever” frequently begins in love, though it is theoretically as tenuous as the single state. Looking ahead, if I really am riding this train to the end of the tracks, I don’t see any of the grand events in my future that help ground and timeline human existence, the events being in love provides. After my best friend got married she told me she cried all the next day, overwhelmed by the outpouring of affection from everyone she knew. She deserves it all, but years later, still single, I’ve realized that there will be no similar ceremonious acknowledgment of my life or my relationships with friends and family. Until I’m dead, I guess, but that won’t be very fun for me. Anchoring my existence without the signposts of commitment, or children, is a lot of work, and sometimes I feel myself giving up on it, drifting off into a grey directionless space in danger of floating completely away.
Time preferences are crucial. The strange thing is the way that many people still try to defend the choice of young women to delay marriage and children, despite the fact that these women are making essentially the same choice as your average street addict to choose short term pleasure over long term functionality.
Riding the carousel may not be as bad as crack or heroin, but it’s probably worse for the average individual than staying stoned for eight straight years.