Here’s the thing about being the oldest single sister of an engaged younger sibling: It’s not quite the imagined travesty.
At least not for me. I’m twenty-six and my twenty-two year-old brother is getting married this summer. In the Orthodox Jewish world, a twenty-two year old boy and twenty-one year old girl is far from unusual, I’d venture to say that it’s celebrated and supported. To the “outsiders” reading this, it sounds incredibly young. Yet in my circles, my age and single-hood is something to be sympathized with, an embarrassment of sorts, or at the very least, a point of curiosity. What is so hurtful about this reaction is that being single is not always a choice. On the occasion when it is, such a personal choice should not be shamed. It must be understood that being single is not an expression of anyone’s lack of merits or inferior moral standing. There are a plethora of reasons for being in the search process and a stigma should not be attached to it.
So here I am, single with an engaged younger brother. My funny and creative brother met his sweet and beautiful fiancé over four years ago. They endured long distance for approximately two to three years of their romantic relationship. When I finally met her, they had no need for my permission; they fell in love a long time ago. I had no reason to be anything other than happy for them. She’s intelligent, passionate, trustworthy, and most importantly, she makes my brother incredibly happy. Not to mention, fun to shop with, and stunning.
Instinctively, I knew that I was supposed to feel something else.
Jealously? Sure. But I’m jealous of anyone in love. Look at those idiots: They’re so happy all the time. I’m happy as I am, but scientifically I’m not releasing endorphins 24/7, like they are. I vaguely remember being in love. Love makes you do stupid, amazing things. It’s great. And that’s precisely why we keep doing it despite the risks. Because it feels good! And all drug addicts want their high.
Since the announcement of their engagement, I often feel like an endangered animal caged at the zoo. People around me are watching and waiting for, I don’t know, some sort of psychotic breakdown. All because my younger sibling will be walking down the aisle before I will.
The worst part is realizing I’m guilty of pressing my nose against the same glass! I have friends whose younger siblings have gotten engaged before they have and I made a point to be sensitive about it. With my head cocked to one side, staring intently into their eyes, I inquired about their genuine well being, imagining how hard it must be. Yet, it wasn’t until it happened to me that I realized how grossly inappropriate my reaction was. So many friends did just as I had done; sending congratulatory messages but with a solemn undertone. How was I doing? Was I ok? Sympathy and concern dripped from every word.
I realize now how insulting the questions can be. I love my brother, I love his fiancé, and I love that they have decided to embark on this crazy journey we call life together. No one loves weddings more than I do. My friends know this, and love me for it. I intern for Martha Stewart Weddings and manage the social media for a custom Ketubah company. I’ve been a bridesmaid more times than I can count on my manicured fingers. I’ve attended more weddings than bar mitzvahs back in middle school. Weddings envelope both my professional and personal life. Why I would be anything but overjoyed?
When the reality of their marriage truly began to come to fruition- the parents had flown around the globe to meet, and the ring was purchased- I assumed the emotional burden would begin to nestle itself squarely on my shoulders. But nothing came. I began to ask myself a series of questions: Was I numb? Were my shoulders stronger than I had thought? Is it not real yet? Am I resentful?
I have been present every step of the engagement process; from ring shopping with her, to proposal brainstorming with him, to venue suggestions for the big day. Even from New York, this Israeli wedding is one of my many projects. At each crossroads, I paused to pose the sharp question: Am I doing this because I wishfully want it to be my wedding? If the answer is yes, then I’m doing a poor job. This is completely her aesthetic, her color choice, her big day. And it is their drama they have to deal with, thankfully, not mine.
I’ll be candid about one thing…Do I wish I had a date to bring to the wedding? No. Let me explain. I do not want to just bring some Joe Lawyer to this monumental family event. I do not even feel comfortable inviting a boyfriend that has not made certain commitments towards me and us as a couple. If I am going to have someone at a family occasion, especially one I want to remember fondly for the rest of my life, the only man worthy of that is a man that I love and who loves me. At this moment, six months until their wedding day, the week of Valentine’s Day (perhaps not by coincidence that I’m finally writing what I’ve been thinking, feeling and experiencing for awhile now), there is no such man that fits this criteria.
And that’s perfectly okay. Realizing that has been shockingly revolutionary for me. Maybe it will be for you too. Because you never know when it might happen to you. If and when it does, maybe you won’t waste your time feeling sorry for yourself or thinking and waiting for an emotional breakdown. You’ll just enjoy the moment and celebration of this exciting time in your sibling’s life. That is, if you love your sibling at all. And I happen to love my brother immensely.
I hope after reading this, people will think twice before inquiring about emotional welfare following the announcement of their sibling’s engagement. Not due to callousness. Not because you don’t care, but because there is nothing to be concerned about. Unless the question is, “what’s the color?” That is much more important than my marital status. Joe Lawyer may not be in keepsake photos but I most definitely will be!