The Honeymoon's Over

I'm 24. Someone failed to mention to me that at this point in life a swarm of diamond rocks and baby bumps would appear on all of my friends. Is there some biological timer that has gone off in everyone else except for me? I fear Facebook and the barrage of news feeds featuring engagement ring close-ups and photos of babies having babies. For me, this bridal ballyhoo never even hit the mark and the honeymoon is already over. That is, for Japan and I.

I consider myself a romantic; not hopeless or hapless, just someone who believes in love. However, any semblance of a "normal" relationship at this point does not exist. It subsists only with this country, Japan.

Part of the initial intrigue in coming to a foreign country was to study cultural differences and present a challenge to everyday living. I guess this crux of life could be said for any human-to-human relationship. I truly am in love with meeting new people and being in new places. I even enjoy daily confrontations that make me claim some sort of unique independence amid this overwhelming world.

Eventually life will calm down, and in it, you will settle for whatever it is that you think made you happy. Those little dried fish at the supermarket in the packaging I still can't read doesn't require a photograph anymore. They're always sitting there on the shelf, next to the dried seaweed packages and among names of noodles I can't pronounce. After the wedding planner and the photos and the honeymoon in Maldives, you're back at home with a plumbing problem, sitting on a stained couch next to a man with perpetual gas and a foul mouth when he watches Sports Center highlights. You've gained back the ten pounds you lost to impress yourself twenty years from now after you've really let it all out. Your life isn't depressing and I am by no means a pessimist, but it is what it is.

More so than the phenomenon of feeling completely entrenched in normalcy after a certain period of about 3-4 months, I am baffled by the timing of it all. In a world I hope will never get customary, how is it that human feelings toward routine can be charted and scheduled so precisely? Sure, there are those of us who break the mold, but for the most part, I was told I would feel this way. I was told the thrill would be gone, but not for long.

I may not stand around and stare at a bottle of tea or a heated toilet seat (complete with bidet) anymore. She may have given up her personal training and come home to a sink full of dishes. But, there's real gratitude in the regularity of a life you love.

I may not be able to exchange men out the way I do countries, but I have a feeling I can keep myself interested in Japan at least until talks of motherhood with Indonesia come my way.