Everyone from my home town is getting married or having kids and it’s freaking me out

It’s like a never-ending episode of One Born Every Minute and it needs to stop


The end of uni can mean a lot of different things: not getting up until midday, or soul-crushing summer jobs, or, apparently, an endless parade of people you used to know who are now engaged and up the duff.

If like me, you’re lucky enough to have these people on Facebook or your university is relatively close to where you’re from, you’ll already have had a preview of these arseholes. I didn’t think that I was old enough yet to have to deal with embarrassing situations like bumping into a girl who used to be in my GCSE French class and having to congratulate her on her pregnancy while I’m buying a bottle of Sainsbury’s own brand vodka, but it’s happened already.

Maybe while you’re holed away in a uni bubble you miss the point where hearing that someone you know is pregnant stops being “Shit, what are you going to do?!” and becomes awkward congratulations and seeing them rake in the likes on their 12 week scan photos.

There are some things you shouldn’t snapchat.

Whatever it is, it’s definitely terrifying to see a growing army of people in your hometown, people your age who are suddenly smug about having their lives together when you were feeling pretty good about managing to land work experience.

Freshman year was wild for everyone.

Maybe you can manage to survive through the awkward conversations with your mum while you’re home for the summer about Amy: “Remember her? Yes you do, you went to primary school with her! Well anyway she’s lost all that baby weight, she looks amazing.” But that’s not to say you can survive the constant barrage of smug Facebook presence the rest of the year.

Think fondly of the days when all you had to complain about on your newsfeed was annoying dissertation selfies – those days are long gone now.

When I told my mum about this article she ticked off several people in this photo who are now married or have kids. Thanks mum.

Like a never-ending episode of One Born Every Minute, suddenly you’re deep into the world of cringey photos of their bundle of joy wearing personalised babygros and reading their daily Facebook lectures on the advantages of attachment parenting.

Sure, you could delete them, but that would be awkward, and anyway it’s too weirdly enjoyable to delete. My Facebook would definitely be a less entertaining place without watching in horror as a girl I used to go to school with proudly uploads photos of her home made breastmilk cookies (this actually happened).

Mm, delicious.

And if they’re not pregnant, you’re not spared the strange smug statuses where people show off their ring finger and proudly display the Argos ring their new soulmate presented them with on holiday in Corfu.

Like missing the point where being pregnant stopped being terrifying and apparently became something great to do at this age, I’ve also missed the point where it’s apparently acceptable for old acquaintances to ask when my boyfriend is going to “pop the question” now that I’m graduating.

I want to say to each their own, but I’d be lying if I said the whole thing didn’t freak me out. I expected I’d be out of uni a good few more years before the time came to start talking non-stop about lactating and worrying whether my fiancé’s second cousin will RSVP in time for the rehearsal dinner.

When I look back on my early twenties, I want to be able to remember them fondly, or not remember them at all – not spend them deep in a quarter life crisis freaking out about suddenly being behind everyone else.