September 01st, 2002 - 7.38 pm
Weddings. Are. Weird. Here’s the thing. People spend MONTHS planning for “The Big Day”. Flowers, dresses, tuxes, invitations, food, reception hall, officiator, blah blah blah blah blah. On and on and on, and the bride stresses out and the groom thinks maybe they should just pay the 10 bucks for the marriage license and be done with the whole thing, and the mother of the bride starts nagging and the father of the bride starts thinking that he’s losing his baby girl and the mother of the groom starts in on the bride, and the father of the groom thinks maybe they should just pay the 10 bucks for the marriage license and be done with it.
So, “The Big Day” arrives, and the bride is sitting in her home wearing her grubbiest tank top and shorts getting hair done, and her make-up and fretting, while her bridesmaids mill around her and her flower girl bounces off the walls like a little lace covered Super Ball.
Then, after months of fretting, a ceremony, and a party, it’s all over.
Weddings. Are. Weird.
Two friends of mine (we’ll call them Renee and John) got married today. I spent all day with Renee, running around grabbing mess free munchies to have at the church, getting coffee for the her, the bridesmaids, the hairdresser, the makeup lady, Renee’s mom, Cathy, it was just hectic. I was for once, the calm, cool, voice of reason getting everyone everywhere with everything.
But it was WEIRD. I’ve known Renee since I was in the fifth grade and she was in the fourth. And here she was. Getting married. Standing up in front of friends and family and saying “this is the person I want to stand by my side for the rest of my life.” And being a stressy spazzy bride. She looked beautiful, in a two-piece gown, with a chapel length train and a gorgeous three-tiered veil that was longer than her dress, but she looked, for all the world, like a little girl playing dress up. She’s 19. I know lots of people get married at 19, but sitting in the church where we had both grown up, Renee looked like the fourth grader I once knew getting married. Maybe that’s because I’m not so sure this is a good idea. . .I worry that she’s giving up on her dreams. She wanted to be a lawyer. She’s really good at argumentation and debate. He wanted to be an architect. Now they go to community college, and may get a real-estate license, and she works at Paper Warehouse and he at Blockbuster.
I sat in the same row as a bunch of friends, and as I looked down the row, we all looked so adult. So much more than the two people on the alter. Please don’t get me wrong. I wish nothing but the best for Renee and John. I hope their marriage is blessed and happy and passionate and wonderful. But I was having a really hard time dealing with this.
Maybe I’m snobby. Maybe love is all you need, and at 19 and 20, you can live happily and never regret the college career/living on your own/wild nights you didn’t get. Maybe. But I love my life. I love my roommate. I wouldn’t get married right now because I’m still too young. I’m 20 years old and I want so much more. Not that there’s anything wrong with being married at 20. Or 19. But I can’t imagine it for me. I can’t believe that my friend, Renee’s last name is different or that she’ll introduce herself as Mrs. So-and So.
I don’t know if I’m not growing up fast enough or if everyone else is growing up too fast, but this is sort of scary for me. I mean, I never expected to be 20 and feeling like I wasn’t ready for this. I thought I’d just be thrilled when two friends of mine got married and while I was happy, I had these . . . reservations.
Sigh.
Weddings. Are. Weird.
