Why I Will Remain Single, Part 1

Allow me to preface my first ever post by saying ‘Welcome’ and that I’m not an angry person. I don’t, however, suffer fools. I do, however, use lots of commas. I also tend not to share my innermost thoughts with anyone other than the slobs and my multiple personalities. But yesterday I stumbled across something so alarming, so frightening, that in the interest of protecting others around me I am compelled to blog it out.

An old “friend” and current virtual Facebook friend (sense the limitations) is on the cusp of marriage. God help her. Now, from what I can tell by investigating her page, she is happy about these developments. In fact, from what I can discern, this is something she’s been waiting for with bated breath, as she’s fielded various horrifying public comments speaking to her “relief” that she’s “finally engaged.” I am loosely happy for her, the way I am when an impacted molar is removed or someone’s chronic pain is mollified by a morphine drip. It’s a quick fix. But what I’ve realized since scanning her wedding website is that it’s not the wedding that typically sickens me, or the outrageous industry that’s sprung up as an excuse for women to leave their jobs and plan a party. Okay, that does sicken me. But really, I’m mostly opposed to sharing the limelight.

Let me again offer up some facts. First, I will not be invited to said wedding, as I have not spoken to the deb in question in decades. Remember, this is virtual friendship we’ve nurtured. Second, I’m on professional holiday, and as such, have little to do with my time other than view my series of televised teen-dramas. Ahem. And let’s face it, Facebook has offered unsuspecting and previously productive lasses like myself the chance to waste entire days perusing frenemies’ vacation pics and photos from weddings to which we were never invited. For the most part, I’m content with the time suck.

Okay, so why I don’t believe in outlandish and extravagant affairs celebrating your predilection for life-long monogamous sex: Why share a party?

History: Growing up my birthday fell fatefully on the same day as another girl in school who I detested more than the threat of back acne. Our grandmothers, however, were very close friends; old hags who played Mah-Jongg and smelled like Welsh Rarebit. Because of their affection for one another--and inability to drive long distances whereby they may make new friends--they believed we should be best friends as well. There was a constant pressure to have joint-birthday parties, a threat I took as seriously as that wink you might get before being hauled off to the Gulag. Again and again, I declined.

But even now, as you’re adult-like and somewhat financially viable, why must you be forced to share a wedding party with another person? Would you not rather keep all the gifts to yourself? And, if like this affianced childhood friend, you’ve gone to the necessary trouble to throw together a 500-person, black tie event with 12 bridesmaids and counting in three days time, would you really want to share the attention with some slobbish (hetero), and in time, cuckolded man who would never appreciate this?

And moreover, why would you want to force your (presumably) twelve closest friends to don the same hideous dress? My friends have more flare, and at least half the fun of any party is watching them assemble an ensemble befitting the occasion.

Ladies, if you relent and share this most important day of your life with another person, you will spend the rest of your life making compromises until you don’t even know who you are anymore, and stand waiting at the sperm clinic in an effort to marginalize this chap and change the locks on your door. Is this unromantic? No. A party is a party, dammit.

Next time: Why 12 bridesmaids is larger than my entire guest list.