The conversation goes a little something like this: If you meet Mr. Right tomorrow, you date for a year, get engaged, be engaged for a year, and then get married. Putting you at 30 when you’re married… and then factor in the fact that you’re not going to meet Mr. Right tomorrow.
This is a game we play often, which is probably damaging to several lobes in my brain.
The last time I actually imagined myself getting married was when I was dating BEX. I would picture the venue (a giant, sheer silk tent), my dress (Carrie Bradshaw’s white dress in front of the fountain with Aiden), the colors (black and white), the flowers (yellow and write roses) and I would imagine myself walking down the very simple aisle to him…
But since our relationship ended (again and again), I’ve tried to push those dreams out of my mind as much as possible.
I always tell my friends that I know I won’t get married, that it’s just not for me, but I know it’s just a defense mechanism. I don’t want to deal with the failure that I feel is on the horizon.
There are times when I’m positive about it and think, “you never know!” And in those moments, I picture a simple wedding in Vegas, where it’s just a party, and no one is bogged down with annoying bridesmaid’s dresses, rented tuxes, and fancy formalities.
After being in several over-the-top weddings, I started to think that I wouldn’t want to put my friends and family through all of that—for what? Just so I can have “my day?”
When I see pictures on Facebook (the devil) of people getting married, I start thinking it’s kind of silly—not marriage—but throwing a big shindig. I think it would be wrong of me to have some ridiculous wedding, like I’ve passed the deadline for that sort of thing.
Then I just get sad and think, wow, how cynical am I? Everyone deserves their day, no matter how old, marriage is something to celebrate, right?
And then I just remember that I’m single and I shouldn’t be worrying about my wedding.