My cousins sigh, “Oh no, all my friends have husbands,”
They long for that love, the rings and the "musts."
They talk about weddings, the dresses, the plans,
As if love’s a prize that slips through their hands.

But here I stand with a grin on my face,
“Oh no,” I say, “All my crushes are placed—
With wives, with partners, with lives so complete,
It’s like every cute guy’s already off the street!”

They dream of the future, of rings on their hands,
But I’m just over here, in my own little lands.
I’m not chasing husbands, or marriage in sight,
I just want the thrill, the joy, the light.

They hope for a "he" to call their own,
But I’ve learned that I’m better off alone.
My crushes, they’re taken—oh, what a sight,
But I’m free, I’m fine, and I’m holding it tight.

So while they wish for what others have found,
I’m happy to wander, not tied to the ground.
“Wives and husbands?” they cry with despair—
But I laugh, “Oh, that’s just not my affair!”