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Truth be told, I hate weddings. Not because I’m bitter nor jaded, but because I find it to be a mere theatrical production staged by two sweating people up front. I’ve never been to a comfortable wedding; it was always too hot and stuffy. I find it ridiculous, really, at why the entourage has to look exactly the same when the same dress does not necessarily flatter different body types, at why couples impose a strictly formal attire when you can expect some people to come in on their cocktail dresses and short-sleeved barongs, sans for the upperclass, who know too well to actually RSVP and follow the dress code. Most Filipino weddings, I have realised, is a circus. Because our culture is highly family oriented, it is considered a great offense if you do not invite your relatives to the 5th degree. I’ve organised many weddings in the past and the most difficult process, and usually the longest, is sizing down the guest list. There’s just too many people you’re afraid to offend. Mothers and daughters usually argue about this; the mother wanting to invite as many of her friends as possible, and the daughter trying to cut down costs. Sometimes, when things get really heated up and I am forced to mediate, all I really want to do is to scream at them and ask, “Who are you trying to please, really?”

For this year alone, I have about 7 weddings to attend, and that’s only until the 2nd quarter. When I received all the invitations last year, I was overwhelmed. I was like, why are all these people suddenly getting married? What’s going on? And most importantly, since these people are in the same circles, I realised with great horror that I cannot recycle my dresses! Ugh. I need to buy 7 different ones. Oh dear. I momentarily cursed at these couples for being so desperate to get hitched. Why oh why are y’all getting married at the same time?!

And then I realised, I am turning 27. For most women, it is the ideal age to settle down. I, however, have yet to travel the world, establish my company in foreign shores, and so much more. So yeah, most of my peers subjected themselves to social and peer pressure. Bah, such mediocrity!

Okay, that’s bitterness talking. Where is this coming from, you ask? Blame my nosy mom. I would have chosen not to know. She just couldn’t resist asking my dad’s staff during lunch today. Noticing that the usual staff was short, she asked where Rockstar was and they told her.

Rockstar got married yesterday.

Again, like most surprising things that unfold before me, I choked. Why is it that I always have to have something in my mouth when these things happen?! (see The Swan entry).

My sister nudged me to relay the news, and I flippantly said “I know, I know. Of course I know”. Actually, I didn’t know and I wasn’t invited.

And then I felt their stares. I stood up to head for the buffet table. I lingered for a while. Let them talk. I’m used to people talking about me.

I’m having mixed feelings about it. To be clear, I am over him, I mean I really am over him. And that was it for him. That was the most that he could give. And everytime I think about it I am more and more convinced that I did the right thing, letting him go to grow his “wings”. How the hell would I know that he’d hook up with this midget shortly after that, and marry her a few months after? “Grow my wings” my ass.

I started getting pissed. And then, sad. Food started to taste bland and I felt like Sally, in that particular scene of the movie, When Harry Met Sally.

Sally: Could you come over?

Harry: What’s the matter?

Sally: He’s getting married.

Harry: Who?

Sally: Joe.

Harry: I’ll be right there.

(Sally opens the door for Harry, she is covered in tears.)

Sally: Hi.

Harry: Are you alright?

Sally: Come on in.

(Harry closes the door behind him.)

Sally: I’m sorry to call you so late.

Harry: It’s alright.

Sally: I need a Kleenex.

Harry: OK.

Sally: OK?

(They walk into Sally’s bedroom.)

Sally: He just called me up ‘wanted to see how you were’, fine. ‘How are you?’, fine. His secretary’s on vacation, everything’s all backed up and he’s got a big case to do, blah blah blah. And I’m sitting on the phone I’m thinking, I’m over him, I really am over him. I can’t believe that I’d ever be remotely interested in any of that.

And then he said I have some news. She works in his office, she’s a paralegal, her name is Kimberley. (Sob, Sob.)

He just met her. She’s suppose to be his transitional person, she’s not suppose to be the one. All this time I’ve been saying that he didn’t want to get married, but the truth is, he didn’t want to marry me. He didn’t love me.

Harry: If you could take him back right now, would you?

Sally: No, but why didn’t he want to marry me? What’s the matter with me?

Harry: Aw, nothing.

Sally: I’m difficult.

Harry: You’re challenging.

Sally: I’m too structured, I’m completely closed off.

Harry: But in a good way.

Sally: No, no, no I drove him away, and I’m going to be forty.

Harry: When?

Sally: Someday.

At least Joe called her to tell her. Even if we’re not in speaking terms right now (I started it – I just ignored his text messages one day which resulted in a spat), I still thought we were okay, civil, at the very least. Come on, he works for my dad, bumping into him is inevitable, and surely, he’s always reminded of me everytime he goes to his office since our family portrait is prominently displayed.

I whined about this to my boyfriend, and his usual understanding self calmed whatever self-doubts that started to surface. For a while, I started to question my self-worth, getting more and more convinced that marriage is not for me because men will always want me for all the wrong reasons except to be their wife.

(c) Peter Cade
I guess this means no more tiara for me then.

It would have been really cool if my boyfriend proposed right then and there just to appease me. But since we both share the same philosophy on weddings and how fake it is, I doubt that we’re getting married ourselves.

I’m just pissed though. Come on! I was sooo looking forward to make this year’s Valentine’s happier as opposed to last year, THE day he actually chose to break up with me. He ruined this year too, without even really trying.

More about this on my upcoming podcast. I’m not gonna whine, promise.

One Trackback/Pingback

  1. By You’re Married, Part 1 of 2 | Basapa on 29 Jun 2007 at 10:49 pm

    […] I Read: How Will I Know He is The One? An Unlikely Bride Girls are like Apples on Trees She’s Just Waiting For Your Move Babae Po Ako! Got Me a Crush! […]

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