I was a bridesmaid and my friend was a beautiful blushing bride. We wore pink. She was the one in white. He was the one sweating buckets at the altar. The ceremony was Catholic and blessedly short.
It was a pretty day for weddings. I was in my element with manicured lawns, flowery arches and an excessively girly dress. I wish I’d been allowed to ditch the heels, though. Our bouquets were really nice. Yay! I left mine at the reception by accident. Boo! There were sunset pictures and cocktails by the poolside and I ate enough food for two Robyns.
This was my second wedding in two years. They married young but not unexpectedly. They’ve been together almost as long as me and the Love. Some relationships don’t even last that long, let alone end up in marriage. I have mixed feelings about marrying young. I think it’s all well and good for other people, but I constantly have to remind myself that it is not the best option for me. I am in no position to be running around and getting married all willy-nilly. I romanticise young marriages a lot, with images of uphill struggles that you always manage to get through because true love conquers all ad nauseam.
Besides, I’m not nearly grown-up enough to be someone’s Mrs.
You know that age when people from high school are starting their careers and their families (one way or another) but you’re still stuck in university trying to cling to some semblance of a Life? Yeah. I’m there.
Whenever Facebook explodes with pictures of weddings, engagements and new babies I get this curious mixture of envy and annoyance. When will that happen for me? Why do I even need to be subjected to this? I don’t care about your baby’s nursing habits! I think weddings are one of those things that are difficult to get excited about unless you’re actually going to one. If one of your casual acquaintances was to tell you,
“Hey, I’m getting married.”
you wouldn’t exactly respond with showers of ecstasy, would you? But when one of your closest friends tells you she’s engaged? I literally jumped up and down screaming outside the movie theatre. I didn’t even know I could get that excited about something that wasn’t Doctor Who. Or my boyfriend.
If you add to that the offer of being a bridesmaid, the scream factor multiplies exponentially. You guys, I am going to be the most kick-ass bridesmaid ever. The day after she told me, I was already armpit deep in research. It takes a lot of work to be a bridesmaid, apparently. And it’s not cheap either. Right now, we’re in the middle of planning the bridal shower, and that alone is an enormous undertaking what with invitations and catering and decorations and themes and keeping it all a secret from the bride-to-be. I love planning though, and I’m lucky to be working with a group of girls who can pull together resources faster than you can say “I do”. It is going to be a fabulous, if hectic, six months. (December weddings for the win)!
Of course, all this research into marriage has me thinking idly about what I want for my own wedding. This is a slippery slope: one minute you’re casually looking at dress styles and the next minute you’re signed up for a wedding site obsessively clicking through advice on seating etiquette. Seating etiquette and D-I-Y escort cards. This is my life right now. And then the next thing you know, you’re haranguing your boyfriend for this “ultimate sign of commitment” and driving the poor boy out of his mind. . .
I haven’t reached that stage yet, mercifully. But sometimes I get a little too involved in the projects that I’m working on.
And if you all haven’t read or watched The Princess Bride, I strongly suggest that you do. You’re missing out on a classic tale of true love and high adventure. And the sarcastically submissive yumminess of Cary Elwes. Young Cary Elwes, that is. Do not look at recent pictures of that man. There’re more Elwe than Cary. (See what I did there)?