In May every year when my students graduate from the university, I am reminded of what didn’t happen for me when I graduated from college.

I didn’t get married.

Throughout my childhood and teen years, I didn’t give much thought to marriage. I never imagined a “perfect” wedding with a Cinderella dress and a three-tiered white cake. I never imagined a “perfect” house with a husband and kids. In fact, I never imagined anyone other than me in my “perfect” house.

But when I went to college, I always figured that I’d leave with a Bachelor’s degree and a fiancé. Sure I had a career in mind, something vague involving books or teaching English, but in the back of my mind, I thought that I’d be married first and then have a career second.

But I didn’t get married.

Instead, I trundled off to graduate school, and, I think, despite myself, landed a career as an English professor. Even in my grad school days with a serious boyfriend in tow for a few years, I figured I would finish my degree and then follow him to whatever city he landed in. I figured I could be an adjunct teacher at any college we were near.

But I didn’t get married.

When the grad school relationship ended, I stopped looking for a way off my career path. Instead I buckled down, persevered through dissertation committees that fell apart and seemingly endless examinations and dissertation rewrites, and I earned my Ph.D and landed a tenure-track job two days after I graduated.

This result still surprises me. I keep chugging along, teaching classes, publishing too little, but now, when I look into the future, I don’t see the endless romantic possibilities I once saw.

But I wonder: how romantic were these possibilities when all I was really looking for was a financial partner who could bail me out if I fell on my face? If he came along, could I really look Prince Charming in the face and ask, “Do you come with your own 401K?”

Now, in life outside of grad school, I am faced with real life on my own dime. Honestly, it kinda sucks, especially since I can’t see that my financial arrangement is going to improve any time soon. My pay is low now and will continue to be about $20,000 lower than professors at other universities even when I am promoted to full professor. Now that’s a bummer.

But maybe the flip side is that without a husband, I don’t have a potential drain on my already miniscule income. So maybe now I can say less morosely:

But I didn’t get married.