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Don't look so miserable, there's cake.

I went to a wedding the other day. The second wedding I've been to in less than a year. The second time I've been an usher. The second tie I've been gifted. An interesting thing to watch, I guess. My collection of ties has really exploded in the last couple of weeks. Black, silver, purple, red. Slytherin. Not bad.

But weddings really aren't my scene.

Before the whole thing kicked off, I found myself sitting in a coffee shop with an old friend. Or what used to be an old friend. "I can't imagine it," she said. She didn't look up from her notebook. "I know people in their late twenties who still don't know what to do with themselves. I just can't ever see myself getting married." She glanced up. "You aren't planning on getting married, are you?" I took a sip of my drink. "No." "Okay, good." She said. "I just had to make sure. Getting married at our age is an awful idea. It won't last." "Yeah, well, it's the popular thing now. Haven't you heard? It's cool to get divorced."

Damn, I thought. Wrong crowd.

Another wedding crossed off the list. Because there is a list. How many more to go? Two, three? Who can even keep track of it, really. It shocked me before, really. It was an eye opening experience. We're adults and we can make indelible marks on our lives if we want. It doesn't really scare me, now. Knowing that we've actually made it to being grown ups. It just makes me feel tired. Mature, even. "God, you're fucking old." I guess I really can't help but agree.

During the wedding ceremony, as I sat on the cold bench beset by strangers, all I could manage to think about was what would happen if I died. How would my boss know that I wouldn't be coming in to work anymore? And how would my friends know I wouldn't be showing up to any parties again? My parents don't care enough about my actual life to have ever met or remembered any of my friends. They don't have contact information. They wouldn't know how to tell anybody, and so they probably wouldn't. Maybe they'd send a mass text to all the contacts in my phone. "Hello," it would say. "Don't call or text this number anymore because Gabe is actually dead in real life. Sorry!" I feel pretty awful about it because it was so inappropriate for the context. But it's valid, I guess.

Then, I escorted the groom's mother back down the aisle and made my way to the reception. I left the whole thing early, made my way back home. I never really managed to shake the thought from my head.

Oh well.

Comments

Carolynn said…
Monica Tseng got married! I got the invitation in the mail and felt so very old all at once.
October 24, 2011 at 11:09 AM
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