Recently a friend joked that with the summer I just had I could make a sequel to this comic and hardly change a thing. My little brother got married back in June in a barn on a goat farm in Virginia and three months later a friend from High School also got married in a barn on a goat farm in Virginia. I went stag to both. Three years later and marriage still feels like an impossibility and I’m still not very good at dating.
But, then again, if in 2014 I’m brave enough to ask a guy out who just happened to be sitting alone in a park on a Friday afternoon then that is more than enough proof that I’m not that same overwhelmed 23 year old in Chicago working in a grocery store juicing oranges for nine hours a day. A distinction that I all too often forget. And definitely one I couldn’t possibly imagine as that 23 year old, slogging past the Harold Washington library in the snow.