As I sit at a round table, dressed in light pink linens and stunning centerpieces, I feel uncomfortable. Every single shower, wedding…I don’t belong.
Smile, make small talk, sip champagne – or something stronger.
Smile…clap…smile.
Speeches, a 5-course salty dinner – don’t forget to use the right fork.
Invited to share a special moment with someone I’ve cared about, spent time with, made memories with – and I’m happy for their happiness – yet, I can’t shake the discomfort.
That feeling has never left me. Every wedding, every bridesmaid dress, every gift, every drunken dance on a sparse dance floor, I dread these events. Maybe it’s what follows – a lack of communication with those you once called friends. The movement of life that creates differences between friends. Girls trips stop, wine nights dwindle, it happens – every single time.
The evolution of life begins, ends, and begins again (for someone else) on that dance floor. At the end of the night, you leave your signature in a guest book, as proof that you were present to witness the nuptials, and then you leave.
As I fidget in the fancy gold chair, I wonder about the day I might take the same walk down the aisle. I’ve focused so long on my career, outside goals, other endeavors.
Should that day come, I want no part in picking linens, flowers or even invitations. I dread seeing loved ones and friends sitting uncomfortably around a table making small talk with people they don’t know.
Undoubtedly, it will be unconventional – but that’s all the thought I’ve given it.
As the clanking of the glasses quiets and the couple shares a kiss, I place my napkin back in my lap…smile…clap…smile.
The lights dim and the DJ invites the couple, in all their glory, to the dance floor. I peer around those at my table to get a glimpse. The bride, my friend, looks stunning. I find myself genuinely smiling as I watch how happy she is. Then…I stand up and make my way to the bar.
Pretty or Not 