On April 29, while Will and Kate celebrate their royal wedding, I’ll be celebrating a wedding too—of my best and only girlfriend from my high school days.
Her wedding is something of a milestone for me, marking the glaringly obvious mistakes of my dating past.
Three year ago, the groom-to-be and I were sitting in my car, attempting to have the DTR talk for the fourth or fifth time. But it took me seven months to get out of this vague relationship.
I cut ties with him right before I came to college.
Fast-forward a few years, and now I’m a bridesmaid in his wedding. But don’t think this is a 27 Dresses kind of situation where I’m freaking out because I’m “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” I’m not too worried. I’m 21.
The only downside is that I have to put on this tea-length dress that hits me in all the wrong places and pull on a pair of stiletto, three-inch heels. And then hope the dress doesn’t fall down and I don’t trip walking down the aisle while trying to maintain a smiling, happy-for-the-couple face the whole time.
The upside is that, unless one of my guy friends goes modern and has me be a groomswoman, I won’t have to worry about being in another wedding party.
Unless, I guess, if I’m the bride. Last I checked, it’s bad if the bride doesn’t show up. But what do I know?
My feminist urges still find the idea of marriage a little repulsive, but maybe that’s because I’m not the kind of girl with a fairy-tale wedding in mind. Or maybe it’s just the tea-length dress talking.
I have to say, my boyfriend now, he’s pretty amazing. He doesn’t make me want to vomit when I think of marriage. As for the ceremony, well, we’ll just leave that alone.
We can’t all have the “wedding of a lifetime” like Will and Kate.
But that’s okay with me.