Until now, my life has been heavily inspired by my Central Asian nomadic ancestors. In other words: I’ve been traveling and living in different countries, collecting stamps in my passport and mild identity crises along the way. But, as every dramatic narrator would say, everything is bound to change.

How do you know when you’ve entered a new chapter in your life? Do you see the curtains closing? Do you hear the audience applauding? Or maybe you simply find yourself staring at an empty page before the next chapter begins.
For some people, a new chapter probably starts with a new location. But that has never really worked for me. Otherwise my life story would consist of about 147 very short chapters, which would be exhausting to read and terrible for character development.

The reason I consider this a new chapter is simple: I am no longer solitary. I now have people in my life. People I cannot simply leave behind.

Also two cats. And a dog.

And, slightly more alarmingly, a diamond ring on my finger.

timing

A few people have told me, “You’re doing it at the right time.” And to some extent, I agree. But the real question is: the right time for whom? And according to which official life schedule? Did everyone receive a handbook I somehow missed? Because on one hand, I still feel like I’m twenty. On the other hand, I’ve recently started craving things like my own space, a quiet home, and a family.

It’s a confusing stage of life where you can simultaneously want to backpack across continents and also get irrationally excited about buying matching plates.

Let’s talk about settled life for a moment.

Humans began settling down roughly 10,000–12,000 years ago during the Neolithic Revolution, when we collectively decided that chasing animals all day was exhausting and farming sounded like a reasonable alternative. Permanent villages appeared in the Near East, and humanity slowly started committing to the whole “staying in one place” experiment.

Now let’s add some unnecessary but entertaining math.

Modern humans (Homo sapiens) have existed for at least 300,000 years. Meanwhile, the current global life expectancy is around 72–73 years (women about 76, men about 71 — apparently women handle this whole “being alive” thing slightly better).

If we divide 300,000 years of human existence by an average lifespan of 76 years, we get roughly 3,947 human lifetimes. Which means that one human year represents about 3,947 years of human history.

If we divide 300,000 years of human existence by 76 years, we get about 3,947 human lifetimes. Which means humanity, as a species, is currently about 76 years old in “human years.” Fantastic. So we are basically a slightly tired senior citizen as a species. Considering the occasional whispers of World War III, that timeline suddenly feels a little too realistic. Someone get a Ouija board and ask Baba Vanga what the retirement plan is.

Anyway. Back to the calculation.

Humans began settling down roughly 12,000 years ago during the Neolithic Revolution. If one human year equals 3,947 years of human history, then 12,000 ÷ 3,947 ≈ 3. Which means humanity settled down about three years ago in “human years.” In other words, humanity waited until it was about 73 years old before deciding to invent agriculture and permanent villages.

Which means that compared to the timeline of our species, I am actually extremely early.

So now I have a new question.

Am I… a child bride?

Is this even legal?!?!

So to everyone confidently telling me this is “the right time”: according to my completely unnecessary but mathematically sound calculations… you know nothing.

the event

Being from a Central Asian culture, your wedding is not really your special day. It’s your family’s special day. You are mostly there as the main prop.

If it were entirely up to me, I probably wouldn’t even have a wedding. A quick ceremony at the government office for the official registration would have been perfectly sufficient. Sign the papers, shake hands, go home, feed the cats and the dog. Efficient. Elegant. Minimal audience participation.

But I am an only child, and I want my mom to have her dream wedding.(Her dream. My wedding. Minor technical detail.)

Besides, she has spent years attending other people’s weddings and generously gifting money and gold (don’t ask, Google) . At this point, this wedding is less of a celebration and more of a financial recovery operation. If you know, you know.

There will also be two weddings in two different countries. Sounds exhausting, right? Not really. I have discovered the secret to stress-free weddings: not organizing them yourself. Everyone was extremely excited and eager to plan everything, so I simply allowed them to follow their dreams. Since I never particularly wanted a wedding in the first place, I’m honestly not too concerned about how they turn out. As long as I show up at the correct location on the correct day, I believe my role will have been fulfilled.

One aspect I was genuinely excited about was the dress I’ll wear at the wedding in my country. I absolutely love our traditional dresses. They are beautiful, elegant, and wonderfully dramatic — exactly how clothing should be when you’re surrounded by hundreds of relatives.

The actual wedding dress, however, required significantly less emotional investment from me. I am getting the first one I tried on. This is not a joke. There was no long search, no dramatic moment, no “this is the one” tears. I tried it on, looked in the mirror, and thought: yes, this appears to be a wedding dress. Decision made. I don’t even know what shoes I’ll be wearing yet. But I do know one thing with absolute certainty: I will not be wearing high heels.

Two weddings in two countries are already ambitious enough. I refuse to also participate in a slow and painful foot tragedy.

honeymoon

Now, when it comes to the honeymoon, people seem to have very high expectations from me as a self-proclaimed nomad.

Suggestions have included Japan, Italy, and the Maldives. But no. Baby, no. I am not leaving the country. The wedding itself is already exhausting enough, and I refuse to spend the only rest time I have away from work by exhausting myself even more in airports, trains, and unfamiliar hotel check-ins. This might make it sound like I don’t enjoy traveling. I do. Very much. When I am mentally prepared for it. What I am planning instead is a very ambitious honeymoon involving the sea, a beach, and absolutely no responsibilities. My schedule will consist of sleeping, eating, sunbathing, swimming, and repeating those activities in a slightly different order. I need to recharge.

According to my highly questionable calculations, humanity settled down at around 73 years old. Which means I am still technically ahead of schedule.

My nomadic ancestors might be slightly confused by the whole “two weddings and a beach honeymoon” situation, but statistically speaking, I’m doing great.