Bad Bridesmaid

February 8, 2011 § Leave a comment

If you’re 20-something and, like me, you’re nosey-ing around Facebook at all hours of the night, you might have noticed that pretty much everyone you’ve ever known is either getting married or preggo. Pretty much everyone. I swear, if I ever find a guy good enough to hang out with for the rest of my life, no one on Facebook will hear about it. People will assuredly congratulate my wall, but no one will know why. Nothing against all the profile pictures of diamonds blinding me, I just like to keep an air of mystery. I want to drop off the face of the earth only to show up one-day show up looking fabulously toned and tan with my dashing extremely tall husband and our five naturally blonde curly-haired children. Really, you know, just for shock value. Even if I just end up an old spinster, I’ll go the extra mile to make an appearance at the melon festival with my beautiful hired family of actors.

Sorry, this is not about my lack of hope in finding true love for myself, but about celebrating the love of others. Just like the FB population trends, everyone in my non-digital friend space is getting married or with child too. We’re getting older, we’re becoming real live adults. I’m standing up in two lovely ceremonies during this year’s wedding season. This something I’ve never done before, but I should practice being a good bridesmaid if I’m always going to be one.

Last night I had a dream that I was in my friend sister’s wedding (a girl who I’ve never met in real life, and thank god it wasn’t one of weddings I’m going to be in, I’d be scarred). Her sister was having a wedding day freak out while getting her hair and make-up done, so I was chillin’ with her dad getting drunk, naturally. Then in the limo to the venue she thanked me for being there and gave me a pretty flowered bracelet, which I broke accidentally upon receiving it. I felt awful because I was getting my drink on instead of comforting her and breaking my thoughtful gift was strike two. My subconscious had guilt written all over it. My dress was in the original package that it had been shipped in, I never opened it because I was mad at the salespeople who sold me the dress. In waking life I was having the same trauma, so that makes sense. When it was time for me to put the dress on I reluctantly opened the garment bag to reveal a hot pink PANT SUIT! A pant suit, like 80s tapered trouser, shoulder pads up to the sky. I was horrified, I felt terrible that I was such a bad bridesmaid. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I flip the garment around and the word “easyrider” beadazzled on the back of the blazer.

I ran out to tell my friend the situation without alerting the bride, but her jitters were accelerating, so I ran back to dressing room. I was contemplating trying to make the pant suit not a pant suit. This all was made even more difficult by the fact that I was still a little drunk. I finally woke up while I was frantically looking though a large rack of Halloween costumes for an alternative, so I don’t know what ended up happening.

I’m not sure if this means I’m terrified of marriage in general, or growing up, or never finding the right… dress. Maybe I’m worried about everyone else passing me by, I’ll never make these milestones and will actually become that spinster hiring her family to parade around the melon festival. Or somehow through these experiences with my friends I’m afraid I will become soft, boy-crazy, and so obsessed with finding Mr. Right that I end up auditioning for The Bachelor.

For now, I’m going to hang the worries up in my closet, with the peace of mind that neither weddings will result in pictures with hot pink pant suits in them. Can you imagine?


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