Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending hundreds of dollars on plane tickets to attend the upcoming wedding of a cousin I haven’t spoken to in probably a decade. Now, I don’t want to sound like a Bitter Betty. I like to see people happy and in love. (Hell, I’m happy and in love and make people suffer through it. It’s only fair.) It’s simply because I don’t get the social convention of weddings. (I’m starting to feel a bit Sheldon Cooper-y, now.) I know. I’m a woman. What the hell?
I’m 100% aware that I stand in the minority on this, so bear with me. I’m not trying to offend anyone. (If you get offended anyways, that’s okay) But, I just can’t wrap my mind around the amount of money people spend on a few hours. Obviously, this doesn’t apply to those lucky jerks who don’t have to worry about it. Screw you, by the way. (kidding, kidding)
I got to be part of the happiest day of my friend’s life last year. Woohoo. When we were getting ready she cried for an hour because the linens she ordered were off one shade of pink. Her flood of tears caused her mascara to run. It got onto her dress. When she couldn’t get the stain out a full on toddler-style meltdown ensued. She didn’t like the way her mom’s hair was styled so she ripped it out and went on a rampage and threw shit everywhere. I’m serious. (Needless to say, this shit show helped it become my favorite wedding thus far) Isn’t this supposed to be a great memory? How is being this high-strung count as fun? Was all of this worth $30,000? I just don’t get it.
Yes, I’m married. We got married in Vegas. The money my parents set aside for our wedding was given to us for a down-payment on a house instead. I just couldn’t let all that money be wasted on a big party. How boring and practical, right? Blah. Even I hate us.
So, I’ve come to the realization that I’m extremely weird and just may be failing at being a female. Well… you win some, you lose some, you know?