“Your presence is requested at the nuptials of Smiley and Happykins, June 10, 2011.” Oh f*ck. Another wedding invitation. And another chance to catch the bouquet.
The Bouquet: “All the single ladies come out for the bouquet toss!” Sure- that’d be fun! I love being paraded along like a hump-backed freak through the streets while people shield their eyes from me, afraid that singleness might be contagious.
The worst part is that most of the “single” girls are now in their teens or early twenties. I stand there, a cautionary tale to them to never eat carbs or go graduate school, lest they end up the girl in the slightly too-tight cocktail gown swerving as she attempts to obtain the bouquet, as if, when caught, the flowers would morph into Ryan Reynolds down on one knee, professing his eternal and undying love, saying Scarlett Johansson was a bitter hag compared to me. Ah if only.
Me and the Ten Year Old: Three years ago I was at a wedding in rural Oklahoma where at puberty you’d better find a man ‘cause everyone’s married off by 21. I was 29, and when the bouquet toss was to occur, a ten year old girl and I were the only ones standing on the floor. I caught the bouquet (took some shoving! Ten year olds are fast!), and my boyfriend at the time caught the garter. He’s getting married in June. I suppose the bouquet legend could still be right. The ten year old won’t be legal to marry ‘til she’s 18, so I’ve still got at least five more years before the bouquet’s prediction could be deemed inaccurate.
Define “single”: No no no!!! Get off the floor!!!! (note to self- less vodka cran at emotional events) A year ago I found myself sweating and clenching my fists – two girls who HAD ENGAGEMENT RINGS went onto the floor for the toss. Look- YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED NEXT. I see the ring, I feel the light shards it produces as you dance ripping tiny holes into the very fiber of my being. I see you and your fiancé mouthing the words to “You’re the Inspiration” as you sway chest to chest while I refill my Cosmo and try to pretend I didn’t want to dance to my favorite love-song since the second grade. This is my moment. This is when fate sends thirty gardenias attached with chicken wire into my hands to quietly promise, “Miranda! Some day it will be your turn!” YOU’RE RUINING IT. Bitch I’m gonna hurt you!!!!
Dance it Out: At another friend’s wedding, instead of throwing the bouquet, she played the Beyonce “All the Single Ladies” song and had a dance-off for the bouquet. Whew! Finally a competition I could win. I wiggled and jiggled and shook my ass. I sung along. I did the worm. But I still wasn’t chosen. I came in second. Again. Kinda like life.
I’ve caught the bouquet three times in the past five years. I’m hoping it’s a sign.
Next time simply spike the bouquet like a football. I guarantee one of two things. First, you'll definitely get married for sure before you catch another one. Second, they won't ever ask you again. It's two birds with one awesome hilarious move!
ReplyDeleteI currently have a refrigerator with 1, 2, 3, oh wait, 6 "Save the Dates" reminding me that all my girlfriends are getting married. And why not? We're in our mid 30's, right? On top of that I've suffered a debilitating physical injury and now have that to psychologically overcome. :/
ReplyDeleteOddly enough, I still have standards that set off the spidey senses telling me that "You're not the one". I still have about 10% hope that I'll find "the one", but maybe I'll just decide to live my life, get the tramp stamp, and join some Bunny Ranch brothel out in Nevada, lol....not.