Mawwaige (part II)

I was lying in bed the other night trying to hypnotize myself into sleep with my ceiling fan, and found that one of my inner voices was actually congratulating me on the accomplishment of not getting married.

The congratulations were a bit overdone. I've done very little toward that accomplishment unless you count my unusual talents of demanding too much, alienation, and generally being illogical in les affaires d'amour. I don't even if they're talents so much as reflexes, but anyway...

I was thinking about something I read about how some women reaching my now ripe age of 30 without tying the knot will occasionally throw parties in which they "marry themselves."

I think that's really gay, both figuratively and literally. I don't plan on doing something that lame.

I would be a liar though if I said that I never went in for the whole big wedding shindig, with me on the cover of bride magazine, being showered with flowers and adoration from the hundreds upon hundreds of friends and family all piled into the castle to celebrate. Also, I would be on a white horse with birds carrying my train and the ringbearer would be a sultan on a floating cloud. And of course, my prince would be just that right degree of sexy, sexual and sensitive that doesn't lean toward repressed homosexuality. And as our lips met on the alter, it made an eternal seal that would bind us beyond even death itself.

Yeah, that was me.

The years passed. I see no point in spending more than $500 on a dress I will only wear once. I know that the girls on the cover of Bride magazine are airbrushed and covered with an inch of makeup. The number of my wedding guests has dwindled. I have developed stage fright. I have developed commitment issues. I don't like when people throw things at me, even if it qualifies as a gentle toss. I've been afraid of riding horses ever since one decided to throw me into a fence. I met a prince once who fit all of the qualifications, except that he was also a liar. And now I know when you die you just die. So sometimes you brush your teeth before getting back into bed in the morning just to try and make the perfection last. Not that it really existed anyway.

If I were to get married today, here's how it would go. I would take my man to a judge acquaintance's house in the middle of the night under cover of darkness. I would wear a simple white dress under a long black coat. I would have my sister give me away and take photos. I would never change my name. I would be the same, except I'd smile once in awhile. I would never base my facebook status around what my husband is or is not doing. I would be me. He would be him. And if we can't be happy, we'll let go.

Or we could always have affairs. That works too.