Four years later

I met my first girlfriend in the fall of my freshman year in college. We were both in-state students with liberal arts majors. The same age, similar family background, both starting college at the same time. The relationship was exciting and fun, but not meant to last. After some initial hurt feelings when we broke up, we remained friends -- not close friends, but happy to catch up when we were at the same party.

In our senior year, we both applied to Ph.D. programs in the social sciences. I applied to 12 schools and was accepted to one school. She applied to seven schools and didn't get in anywhere. I felt awful for her. For weeks I had been a shaky nervous wreck over admissions, wondering what would happen to me if I ended up with 12 rejection letters and no plan, nowhere to go when I graduated. And it actually happened to my ex.

Four years later, she just posted two new photo albums to Facebook. One album is of her recent vacation in Mexico -- beaches, palm trees, Mariachi bands. The other album is photos of her new three-story house, which is still under construction. She is wearing a hard hat and smiling (she still has that tongue ring!) on the unfinished ground floor.

And no, she didn't marry someone who can afford a new house. She is single, like me. She is getting her very own house.

It's like that poem, where two roads diverge. We were on the same path (get into college --> first lesbian relationship --> more college --> apply to grad school) and then I got an acceptance letter and she didn't. I was happy and she was sad. She had to choose a different road. And as it turns out, that road leads to vacations in Mexico and your own house.