I was reminded today why I hate weddings so much. Or at least weddings for family members. It’s all this formal bullshit — the invitations, the cake, the dresses, the groom, the weird little garter thing. And everyone wearing these fancy dress-up clothes. I hate it.
My cousin, Erika, got married today to this guy named John. The wedding was on the beach at sunset, very pretty, small, and semi-formal. Everyone was barefooted and the smell of storm still kind’a hung in the air from all tropical storm Ivan going on. Sea air in my nose, I watched the scene from behind everyone else. I watched them exchange their vows as the priest talked about Adam and Eve and something about ribs. And as they exchanged their vows, i watched John — I saw the look in his eyes … no. I felt the look in his eyes.
And it made me sad. Because the chances that I ever have someone on a beach, in front of friends and family, look at me that way, tell me he loves me … and pledge themselves to be at my side … it’s just not something that’s going to happen. — and that’s not being negative, it’s being realistic.
So going to a wedding reminds me that I will never have this event for myself.
And not only that, but I had to spend the day with my republican father. And of course, we discussed politics. I finally just conceded and said “ya know — it’s really all just kind’a dumb. They’re both corrupt, it’s just trying to pick the lesser of the two evils.” But that’s an entry for another day.