Three weeks ago someone pointed out to me that I'd been considered serious marriage material by 5 people. Yeah, it sounds like I'm bragging, but it's not like, whoa, I like you so much. It's either more like whoa, I'm scary and obsessive or whoa, you would make a great wife, right after I get through dating all these skanky girls to get my fun in.
My best friend ever is getting married in June, and I'm her maid of honor. It astounds me that I'm not the flower girl, it just seems like I can't possibly be old enough to be the closest friend of someone old enough and mature enough to be married. Incidentally, I remember when she first pointed him out to me as someone she had a crush on, the first time they had sex, and their first date. In that order.
I went home to California last weekend, and there was some family there. Someone remarked on how we rarely get together, and how maybe the next time we got together, maybe it would be for someone's wedding *meaningful glance my way* Gulp. Honestly, Now it begins. I'm going to be that quintessential single girl the family's trying to marry off, a la Bridget Jones, Cathy (from the cartoon), Rose from Titanic or that chick in Life is Beautiful.
RedHead Melissa and I are getting married-it will be a double wedding. You're invited, of course. The grooms? Oh, no. We're marrying ourselves, I promise to live, honor and cherish me, forever and every till death�kills me. Because, as she pointed out, it's really the being proposed to, the ceremony, and the honeymoon that's fun. I think that's why the divorce rate is so high, people just want to start over so they do the fun part again.
And if all fails, I have my backup, doesn't everyone? Eleven more years of spinsterhood and I will officially be betrothed to Joel Murphy, my friend from high school, and my personal life-cheerleader. Just keep taking those cold showers, Joel, only eleven more years.