Feb 3, 2009
I'm getting a little tired of writing "Oh em gee! Congratulations on your engagement! I'm so happy for you two!" on everybody's Facebook pages. I'm not being uncharitable. I'm just being a bitch.
Yesterday, my friend Carly got engaged--ohemgee! congrats! so happy!--and she is the TWELFTH PERSON I know who's been asked The Big One this past year. That's twelve happy couples, most of them getting married in 2009 or 2010. Statistically speaking, half of these couples will be divorced within five years, but I like to think these twelve will make it, and twelve *other* couples--people from Australia, Florida, Mars--will ultimately fail. I won't win any points wishing divorce upon people (or Martians), but I'm fairly certain folks wished for my inevitable divorce, which was the best thing that ever happened to my ex-husband. It was good for me, too, but terrifying; I'd never been alone before. Through my sobbing I heard a thousand trumpets heralding his departure, so I figured that was a good sign.
NO, I AM NOT JEALOUS OF MY FRIENDS. NUH-UH. AM NOT. A little.
We can't afford toilet paper, much less a wedding; we're so broke, we can't afford to dream about a different kind of life. Lately, I've started making handwritten lists of activities I used to do, food I used to eat, things I used to buy; it's provocative like a love letter, wistful like a lost love. It's like a Hope Chest: the 'I sure fucking HOPE we can do these things again someday' Hope Chest. So, a wedding is a no-go. Plus, it's still early--if I know my boyfriend, I'd say we're at about half-time in the Big Game, maybe even a time-out in the third quarter. I don't know why I'm using football references; I guess so he won't understand what I'm talking about.
I don't object to marriage, or any of these specific couples getting married--OMG! w00t! happy!--I'm just astounded by the timing. If there ever was an onslaught of marital bliss, a veritable avalanche of shindiggery, a slew of receptions from which to do regrettable things, THIS IS IT. Couldn't they have staggered their collective happiness into something easier for me to emotionally and financially handle? Yeah, that's right, you couples should have been thinking about my needs--HOW DARE YOU. The audacity of your inherent happiness offends me, sir, it surely does. What? I SAID GOOD DAY, SIR.
It's hard enough to come up with funds for a wedding shower gift, bachelorette party debauchery, wedding gift, the inevitable baby shower gift that comes a year later--but twelve times over? I CAN'T EVEN COUNT THAT HIGH. That being said, congratulations to all of my newly-betrothed friends. Oh! Em! Gee! I am just so happy for you all. I hope you enjoy your wedding gifts of stolen single-ply toilet paper and hastily-handwritten wishlists. If you're lucky, I'll throw in a dream for free. Maybe this one:
I had a dream last night that I was Britney Spears, performing a song at The Showbox in downtown Seattle, with back-up dancers who turned out to be drag queens. Is this a sign that my life is finally in the shitter? Or was it a cosmic message about a possible future career as a drag queen back-up dancer? Don't knock it; I'll pretty much do anything at this point.