Desperately Dating: Weddings Are Hell for Single People
Why is it when you go to a wedding, single people are never left alone….by elderly relatives.
Last Saturday I had to attend the most dreaded event for any single girl in her thirties—a wedding. My much younger (and prettier) cousin married her high school sweetheart. I was going to just ditch it and opt for one of two alternatives: Sit at home all day and look at my ex’s Facebook page to see if he was dating anyone, or go to a Zumba class with the office accountant where I work. Deciding I’d be better off eating free food and performing an electric slide or two then being a stalker or watching the lady who signs my paychecks gyrate her hips for an hour, I just went to the wedding.
My sister was my hot date, since she too became single recently. It started off well. We managed to make it through the actual ceremony without shedding one tear. Immediately thereafter we hit the open bar and the endless shrimp cocktail at the reception. I was stuck sitting next to my aunt Vivian who can out talk someone with bipolar disorder who is on a manic high. I mean, I had to hear about her panty hose giving her a horrible yeast infection while I was trying to down my second plate of shrimp. Let’s just say there wasn’t a third helping. There was, however, plenty of annoying comments about my sis and I not having a significant other. Oh yes, this was done by my aunt and pretty much the whole left side of the reception hall. It seemed like our nonexistent dating lives had gotten more attention than the bride and groom! The questioning had gotten so bad, that at one point we were actually contemplating becoming lesbians for the night just to shut them up. We decided against that for fear that our mom would choke on the olive from her dirty martini when we falsely came out of the closet.
The evening became progressively more humiliating. I couldn’t decide which moment was the worst. Was it when we were the only two to stand when it came time to throw the bouquet, or was it when my 85-year-old grandmother bribed the kids’ table with extra cake pops to pass out our phone numbers to the DJ and Photographer! I never thought the day would come where I actually thanked God for the total distraction of the infamous Chicken Dance.
My sis and I decided to make a dash for the exit before the bride and groom said their farewells. We grabbed our lavender sachet party favors, what was left our dignity and made a beeline to my car. The drive home was somber. My sister took our witch hunt way worse than me. I think it’s because she just turned 40 and has been referring to the sound of her maternal clock resembling something like Big Ben for quite some time. I could tell she was totally stressed out by her endless pleas for me to stop at a store so she could buy a pack of cigarettes. She quit four years ago.
As I continued to drive down Depression Road with my sister (who by the way was foaming at the mouth for a ciggie), I was becoming more pissed off by the minute about what happened at the wedding. How dare they treat us like expired milk cartons??? What world are they living in? Because it sure wasn’t the modern one! I mean, I was waiting for my aunt to trade us in to the village peddler for a goat and a few shillings. What the fudge?? My sister and I should have been applauded for being successful, independent women—not ridiculed for failing to be married off yet. I am very happy being on my own (okay maybe that’s a stretch). So what if I miss my ex-boyfriend so much that I drive by his house every morning blasting Home by Michael Buble? Being married doesn’t guarantee happiness. Heck, half my married friends are way more miserable then me and my sister. They just have someone to share it with on a permanent basis.
Furious and frustrated I pulled my car off to the side of the road determined to cheer my sister up. I began to tell her everything I knew she needed to hear, the truth. I told her how gorgeous she is. How she is the coolest and smartest person I know. How even if she never gets married she will always be loved and if she does get married, he will look and act just like Danny Zucko (she has a strange Grease obsession), and I told her that I will make sure to spike Aunt Vivian’s punch with Miralax at the family picnic this summer. I finally got a laugh and a huge hug! Then my sister told me told me something I needed to hear: The tavern up the street was having dollar well drinks and a sexiest male contest. Freedom is a beautiful thing.
In a previous life, Gianine Nelson was a college student studying nutrition and working in the medical field. After spending time contemplating the human condition, she decided her addiction to donuts and writing about the crazy world of dating was her true passion.