Hannah Smith

hannah.smith@indystar.com

I hate being engaged.

Don't get me wrong: I love the human I'm going to marry. His name is Nathan, we've been best friends for four years, and I'm excited to be married to him. It's something we've talked about at length, and I have zero qualms about making the commitment. I wouldn't want to marry anyone else.

But being engaged at 22 is seriously the worst.

I didn't realize that upon becoming engaged at such a young age, you automatically become a different person. All of a sudden, instead of a career-driven journalist, I am a future housewife.

At least, that's how people around me made it seem.

When I told two male co-workers that Nathan and I were planning to get engaged, one of them said, "So, you're not doing journalism anymore?"

As soon as I got engaged, I was congratulated for that immediately, but not for the new job I'd landed or on my graduation.

Instead of getting asked what my plans were post-college, the first questions were "When's the wedding?" or "How are the plans coming?"

And possibly worst of all, two male professors whom I greatly respect told me to be sure I didn't have kids for at least 10 years because it would ruin my career.

Nobody thought to mention future children — and their career-ruining qualities — to Nathan.

I was flabbergasted, and that's not a word I use lightly. I never anticipated that type of response.

There is palpable tension in senior year of college and the summer immediately after, between those who are getting married and those who are not. There's this idea that there's a "right way" and a "wrong way" to do life, a certain order of events to check off by a certain point. Everyone's terrified of missing the milestones, or doing things in the wrong order.

There is still pressure for women to marry, and weddings are so "in" that many young women can't wait to plan their own. I'm not too into the whole planning aspect — I went to two bridal stores before buying a dress, and booked venues the day I saw them — but for some women it's a hobby.

However, while there's pressure to get married, there's a simultaneous pressure for women to scoff at the idea of marriage, because getting married means you're not a "career woman."

Because we were raised in a generation where we were told we can do anything, we feel pressured to do everything.

I don't think getting married has anything to do with my career, but people seem to think the two are mutually exclusive for women. I say "for women" because no one has questioned Nathan on whether he'll be able to have both a job and a wife, but it's a question I've been asked more times than I can recall.

No one has asked him what our wedding colors are before they ask what his job is.

No one's questioned whether he's committed to his job because he's also committed to a relationship.

And he's been faced with surprise from people who learn that in the fall, we're moving to Tennessee for my job, not his. They assume we would move for his career. Then, he's asked if moving for my career is OK with him.

In fact, I'm asked if he's OK with that too, usually before they ask what the job is.

I wouldn't believe these attitudes still existed it if I hadn't experienced it. It seems impossible for some people to grasp that a smart, career-minded, not-particularly-religious woman would ever want to get married young.

The point in all of this is that women should have choices. I don't advise getting engaged at 22, but I also don't discourage it. There is no way to plan when you're going to meet the person you choose to marry, or when you're ready to get married, if you choose to at all. It could be at 22, or it could be at 45. You just can't know.

I have chosen to get married as a young 20-something. It makes sense, given where we both are in our lives and respective situations. It made far less sense to put it off just so we could say we got married older.

I cannot wait until I'm no longer engaged. I'm very excited to shed the label of fiancee and all of the connotations that it carries for a young person. Once the paperwork is signed, I'm hoping the constant questioning will taper off, and people can see me once more for who I am, beyond engagement. Honestly, I wish we'd just gone to the Justice of the Peace and been done with it.

So if you see me at the courthouse between now and the wedding day, you'll know why.

Call Star reporter Hannah Smith at (317) 444-6755. Follow her on Twitter: @Hannsmit.