One: Today I talked to my gynecologist’s assistant about talking to my gynecologist about getting information on donor insemination. Woo hoo! (This doesn’t mean I’m doing donor insemination. Just having the conversation.)
Two: I’m gonna break Rule 2. Pretty sure I made these stupid rules, so I can break ‘em in an emergency.
EMERGENCY! Remember all that stuff I said yesterday about women with Starfish Envy “taking action, making hard decisions, and creating the lives we want”? Yeah, well, that’s true. But we also reserve the right to occasionally FEEL LIKE CRAP about our singledom. And one of those times is when we make plane reservations to go to our four hundred and seventy-third wedding alone. (Not really four hundred and seventy-third. I counted up to seven, but then I got too depressed to keep counting.)
I mean, seriously, would the world fall apart if I had a one measly boyfriend to take to one fracking wedding? Would the cosmos explode?
Maybe. Maybe my singledom is the glue that holds the universe together. If that’s the case, then fan-fucking-tastic, I hope I die alone.
Or maybe I'm just as much of a reject as I feel like I am at this moment. Which will pass. I know it will pass. But first I do have to say that one guy, I swear to god, asked me on a second date because he forgot to mention on the first date that he’d taken an acting class. By the way, did I have any advice? Yeah: BITE ME. And not in the good way. (I really want to change that to: "BITE ME. I hope your face burns off." But that's just too not nice, and I am, in general, a fairly nice person... except to men who date me in the hopes of landing a Lie to Me guest spot, which makes me ANNOYED.)
Whatever. I'm doomed. And, clearly, utterly unlovable. Shit. I am SO wallowing.
And the thing about this particular wedding is that it’s going to be The Wedding To End All Weddings. Down to the last detail it will be perfect and beautiful and emotional and gorgeous and unique. And I will have a great time. I really will. And I probably won’t be the only single person there—this is an LA crowd, so there will probably be lots of single, thirty-ish women just like me, but not one single man, no never any of those, and if there are any of those, they will be interested in every other single woman there, and a few of the married ones, before me—and I’ll drink a LOT of wine and get the most expensive hotel room I can find, and the bed will be really soft and luscious and comfortable and GREAT to sleep in. And, really, what could be better than a few great nights of TERRIFIC SLEEP in romantic Napa Valley? Yippee!
I want to cry. Meaning I already did, most of the way home from work.
Okay. Deep breath.
Meltdown complete. Rule 2 is back in effect.
Do you have any good wedding stories (alone or otherwise)? What’s the best wedding you’ve ever been to?