You're at a wedding trying to make small talk with relatives you don't remember the names of, and they ask your mother questions like, "so when are you marrying off your daughter?" Or they shake your hand and say "The next time we get together, it will be for your wedding!" They laugh heartily. You smile-- lips thin and tense, "It might be a while..."
In the wise words of Alicia Silverstone a la Cher Horowitz,
"You see how picky I am about my shoes, and they only go on my feet!"
I don't want to abide by a timeline, but living organically is tough, I'm afraid.
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