Then it happened. Inevitably, it gets quiet and the DJ makes the announcement: It's time for the bouquet toss. And instantly all the joy found with Jack (and his girlfriend, Ginger) is lost. My heart is racing, no longer from the dancing, but because I fear that someone is going to make me go up there. And per usual, they tried, and per usual, I politely declined. Before I go any further with this, I need to say that pushing a girl toward the bouquet toss is a lot like pushing her head: you just don't. Or, shouldn't. ANYWAYS.
When I was little, I wanted to be She-ra. I remember spending hours in the woods pretending I was Sarah from Labyrinth. I rode in the most bad-ass ten-speed bike gang in Rhode Island. I wanted to own horses and played video games with my dad. I liked tee ball and, later, softball, though I was never particularly great at either. I read A LOT of books. I never remember liking dolls. I think I had a couple? Certainly not the vast collection of Barbies that most of the girls I knew owned and operated. I don't remember ever playing dress up. It's not so much that I was a tomboy as it was that I just didn't (and as y'all know, still don't) get into frilly girl stuff.
The point of telling you all this is that never once in my little girl brain did I ever dream about a big girl wedding. There was never a white horse, white prince, white dress, none of it. Some of my girlfriends knew, down to the color of ugly bridesmaid dresses, exactly what their wedding was going to be like...by 5th grade. I had NO idea. None of these things ever crossed my mind, and to be honest, they still rarely do.
Most of you know...I was married once. (briefly) And I have to say that planning a wedding was ridiculously difficult for me. While I imagine most girls to have happily tearful moments when they settle on their dress, I was mostly itchy, wishing it was black, trying to figure out how it would look with some Chucks, thinking I really needed a half-sleeve, and asking the seamstress to remove every bow, bead or bedazzled anything from it. I felt poofy and absurd. There was nothing princessy about it for me. I don't like flowers. When asked about things like candles and centerpieces, my resoundingly honest answer was, I don't care. That pouring sand into a jar together thing? WHAT IS THAT? Brides find themselves passionately committed to things like...linen colors. I don't even care if my socks match. Every time I go to a wedding, I find myself looking around, feeling like I'm a total imposter and that it must just be an accident that I have ovaries because they're clearly broken.
Weddings terrify me...and I don't just mean having one. I mean going to them. They are the most socially anxious you'll ever find me. It's why I'm usually first in line at the bar. I mean, I guess I'm always first in line at the bar, but at weddings it's for a reason. A terrible, anxious, sinking feeling because I know what's coming. And it does. Like clockwork. Every. Single. Time.
"So, how long have you and boy been dating?"
"Oh, you know, not very long? Just a couple of months."
"Oh! Sooo, when do you think y'all with get engaged?"
Uh. Um. You heard me say just a couple of months, right? It always makes me have a complete pee my pants panic attack. I don't know what to say. There's this weird terrible impossible new girlfriends have to figure out how to balance between "We're just not there yet" and "Your friend's a total doucher and we will never be there" thing. WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DOOOOOOO. STOP DOING THIS TO US. ANYWAYS.
So, this brings us back to me at the wedding, sweaty-palmed, praying I can make an exit so I don't have to stand next to a group of girls who probably already know exactly what kind of font they'll have on their invitations, and awkwardly be awkward. I feel like if I ever were to catch the bouquet, I'd be robbing real girls of all their hopes and dreams. Besides, I don't want to be NEXT; I just want to be HAPPY.
I love love. And I love that I got to go to the wedding this weekend, because I got to see it, pure and sweet, between two really cool people. That's some lucky business. But please, if you ever see me at a wedding, know that I am probably just trying not to throw up so if you could refrain from asking me terrible things orrrrr, say, throwing flowers at me, I'd greatly appreciate.
