Tuesday night, another day of Advanced Grammar under my belt.

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I’m laying in bed writing this and you are not going to believe what Cuddles is doing.  Imagine my hands on top of my laptop, typing this.  Okay, you’ve got the mental image?  Cuddles is laying in my lap, but his head is laying on my left hand.  Like, laying there right now as I type these very words.  And it’s not even bothering him that, every single time I type a letter on the left side of the keyboard, his little bitty head goes up and down, up and down.  He’s just staring at the screen, watching me write this.

That’s the thing about Cuddles; whenever I’m home, he likes to be right with me — in my lap if I’m sitting, scampering along with me if I’m walking around the house.  He’s a cute puppy, just like his brother.

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This morning, after telling you that I was going to be late to Advanced Grammar if I didn’t hurry, I rushed into the laundry room to grab some clothes from the dryer and, in the process, tripped over something and fell into a pile of laundry.  At least the clothes broke my fall, right?  Gosh, I wish you could have seen it.

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So, who has been wondering what happened to Cousin Cate?  Judging from my inbox, a lot of you have been (though not as much mail as I got about the mysterious disappearance of Gosling from the blog).  But back to Cate: she’s doing good, very good.  A few months ago she got a job and a serious boyfriend, the latter being the most exciting, of course.  We still see each other (dinner earlier tonight as a matter of fact), but a lot of her extra time is taken up with her relationship — as it should be, of course.  That’s a natural, good part of forming a dating relationship with someone.

At dinner tonight she was giving me some updates on her relationship (I asked her permission to tell you this part) and it was obvious that things are very serious between she and her boyfriend.  She told me all of the new details and then, probably without realizing she was even saying it, said “I just can’t believe this is happening to me.  I feel like I’m in a dream.  I can’t believe this is happening to me.”  She had this look on her face, that look a girl gets when she not only loves someone but knows that they love her, too.

And as I’m sitting there listening, I have this sinking feeling in my stomach because I’m so afraid that, at some point, I’m not going to be able to get excited for my friends.

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I don’t get jealous of my friends.  I wasn’t resentful when Katie got married, when Ashley had her baby.  I wasn’t envious when Christan had her second baby, and then Brandy had another one, too.  I want my friends to be given what they want.  I want to see their faces hidden behind wedding veils, arms reaching out for newborn babies.  I want to be the bridesmaid standing beside them, I want to go to the maternity ward to see their new gift swaddled in a baby blanket.

But what I’m afraid of is it becoming harder to stay that way.  I’m afraid that one day I’m going to resent that my bridesmaid dress isn’t a wedding dress, that the scrapbook I made for their baby isn’t for mine instead.  I’m afraid that, instead of wanting the best for them, I’m going to wish it could be mine instead.

To be blunt, it hasn’t been a struggle for me before; I’ve just genuinely been happy for them at each bridal and baby shower.  But tonight, as Cate was talking, I felt like an alarm was going off inside me.  Be happy for her.  Be happy for her.  Be happy for her.

And I am happy for her.  It’s just that sometimes I’m afraid that I’m going to be the only one left back here at the starting point while they all rush towards the finish line.  Before you feel sorry for me, you should know that it’s mainly pride.  I’m afraid that I’m going to be left alone in my group of friends, that it’s going to get even more embarrassing than it already is at times.  I’m afraid that I’m going to the next work social event alone, the next wedding alone, the next family holiday alone.

But, almost paradoxically, I don’t necessarily want things to be different for me.  If I had the option tonight of being in a relationship verses being alone, I’m not certain I wouldn’t choose to remain as I am tonight.  It’s safer this way, not letting anyone hold your heart in their hands; much less of a chance that they might drop it on their way out the door.

So, you know, here I am.  Two very conflicting feelings.  Caught in between.

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When I write about being single, I always feel like I need to apologize for complaining which is frustrating in itself because, honestly, I’m not trying to complain.  I’m just writing about what I know and, right now, what I know is being torn between wishing I was with someone and yet being relieved that I’m not.  I think it may be called “being in your mid-twenties.”  Don’t worry; I should grow out of it in about five years or approximately 1,629 blog posts.

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Speaking of the blog, I think it’s time for a makeover.  And, get this — I’m thinking about changing the name of it, too.  Now, wouldn’t that be wild?  I have a new name in mind; we’ll see.

Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.  Off to bed before I offer to sing you a song.