Weddings Kinda Make Me Barf

The first in a series of things that make me throw up in my mouth a little: weddings!

Not your wedding, of course, but weddings in general. (I don't think I hate marriage either, but I do hate the social fixation on partnering. Single people are people too, people!)

I blogged about the implicit cost of weddings on my other blog, but there are actually quite a few reasons I don't have much interest in getting married myself. I'll make a long story short: most of my reasons boil down to the fact that everything about weddings has become so hokey and un-unique in their quest for uniqueness that I can't stand it.

For example, yesterday SP got a save-the-date magnet from a friend. There are not one, not two, not three, but FOUR pictures of the happy couple smooching and/or embracing on the magnet. Gross. I don't know these two people, but even if I did, I wouldn't want a picture of them kissing, let alone FOUR pictures of them kissing, on my refrigerator. But guess what I have now. ("How else will we know they're in love?" SP asked in response to my questioning the poses.)

And their website, prominently displayed on the save the date (bad design), is even better. Actually, it's amazing.

There you can see all the "couples" pictures (her quotes, not mine) that they took two weeks before (????) they got engaged. That's another thing about weddings I don't understand: weird, soft-focus pictures. And I certainly don't understand getting them taken just for the hell of it. Under each picture in the slide show are some of the lyrics to the song Forever. It took me a while to place it, but I finally did.

Then there's the story of how they met and got engaged. Despite the fact that I've never met either member of the happy couple, I'm pretty sure that both of these stories have been whitewashed to some extent. (Though she did say her favorite casual-dining restaurant is Olive Garden, so maybe not.)

This website is inspiring. It almost makes me want to get married, just so I can post my version of how we met. It'll go something like this:

SP got wasted and told my roommate that I was cute. Once I remembered exactly who SP was, I was flattered. After a few weeks of hanging out, I dressed up like a hooker and he put on a fat suit, and we both got wasted, and I told him that no one needs a hooker like a fat guy, and then we made out in his living room in front of everyone I know, including my younger sister. The next day, in the harsh light of morning, we went to Lost Dog Cafe, one of our favorite casual-dining restaurants.

My parents are so proud. And yes, I did whitewash that. It was a Halloween party, and some dude tried to pick me up in my Capitol Hill neighborhood as I walked to my car in my hooker garb. And SP and I danced to Rock Your Body a few times before I finally made my move. And I made cupcakes. Fat guys love cupcakes.

So, as you can see, I really have no need to get married. I'm enough of an asshole already.

(And seriously, none of this is personal. All my married friends are absolutely lovely. It's the wedding-industrial complex I hate.)