Perhaps you just know it when you see it. When you you think you love someone, is it normal to wonder if there's anything better out there? Or does that mean you're just not in love?

I've returned to the grocery store for the summer and thus my annual people-watching has begun. During my breaks I read page after glossy tabloid page, praying I'll look as good as Madonna when I'm 50. Then I see what people really look like when they're half a century old--tired, wrinkled clothing, gray hair, yellowed teeth. And I see many married folks who perhaps were once in love, and I've come to the conclusion that love is more like a car than a 90 minute made for TV movie; it's shiny at first, then needs more and more work as the years go on. I've seen this in my own relationship too. I love him, but it's not like he came galloping in on a white steed and whisked me away to marry him and bear many beautiful babies. I feel like he's my best friend, and then sometimes I just want to strangle him. I always pictured it differently. I envisioned a tall, dark and handsome man who'd look into my eyes and make me melt. Yet there aren't too many of those kinds of customers at the grocery store and yet plenty of people seem to be married. Maybe that's what love is: taking the person for who they are, quirks and all, knowing you'll have someone to (hopefully) share your life with.

I'm a bit young for marriage, but college graduation is upon me and with it comes the sugary sweet inquiries from old women and relatives about what I want to do with my life. Do I want to settle down? Am I seeing anyone serious? Where will I live? I can't picture myself being married. Knowing I am going to wake up next to the same person everyday for the rest of my life seems like some sort of torture. And the motherly instinct has surely fallen on deaf ears. This worries me at times. I don't want to be a haggard old cat lady who derives joy from weekly coupon clipping. Ugh, I just don't know what I want. Part of me wants to fast forward through this odd purgatory of higher education with a side dish of menial labor and the other part enjoys this uncomfortable transition period. It's fun not to know where your life is going, yet equally terrifying. Where is the defining moment, the epiphany, the unmistakable signs that should be telling me where to go? For now, I'll just keep scanning groceries and try to figure out the true meaning of love.