Wuv, Twooo Wuv .....

Apparently, 2009 is the year of the weddings. I went to one this past weekend, have another two weddings coming up in the next three months, and I know of at least 30 other weddings of people that I marginally know. And then my sister has gotten on the bandwagon, already looking at dresses, asking me to be her maid of honor (which I'll happily be) and to plan her wedding (I agreed to this only after ensuring that she would not be flighty and have other people make the final decision on things), and letting me know that it would probably be happening in September or October of 2011, you know, the year before the world ends. Allegedly.

Still, all of the matrimonial talk kind of sent me into a tizzy. Marriage just freaks me out for some reason, and I don't dream of the day I finally put that ring on my finger. I used to, and I probably will again at some point, but right now, it's about as far up on my list as getting a colonoscopy.

Plus, the whole idea of planning a wedding seems exhausting with a capital E, especially since you and your fiance are the main event. And, of course, since it's your special day or whatever, you'll want everything to be perfect, blah blah blah. But seriously, I will like the people I invite to my wedding; why would I want them to sit in uncomfortable chairs for 30 minutes while I say my nuptials? Nope. I'm coming down the aisle to something a la AC/DC, and we're gonna do the "Spaceballs" version of the wedding vows. Quick, painless, there's a ceremony for those who oppose the court house (and the lack of maid of honordom) - and I say then we party. Barbecue style. With plenty of alcohol, although dancing will definitely be monitored based on consumption.

Even with the simplicity of that plan, the idea of actually spending the rest of my life with someone seems daunting. I mean, wicked scary. Most of my friends know that I need my personal space after a few days of hanging out with them, but this is seeing this person from that day on, every single one.

Considering my aversion to getting married, it's only natural that I avoid going to them. Not because I don't like the people and that I am not happy for their soon-to-be wedded bliss, but because I, the single girl in her mid-twenties, is surrounded by matchmakers. At this last wedding, a woman whose name escapes me asked me, "Why aren't you married yet?" My response was rather caustic but appropriate given the question: "Because I'm actually toying with lesbianism." She blinked a lot and sort of wandered away, pretending to see someone she knew. I have politely explained to people in the past that I just haven't met someone with whom I want to be for the rest of my days. Maybe a few weeks or months, but certainly not until I die.

God, I just hope this doesn't continue to happen when I get into my thirties, which it undoubtedly is, especially because "Sex and the City" says it's so. And it will probably be worse because my biological clock is ticking once I get to 35, and everyone knows that women lose all worth once they hit 40. Unless they're cougars, then you can just make fun of them.

And I'm in even more trouble when I explain what I want my wedding to be like. "Oh, you'll change your mind when you get there." Oh, really? So you can predict what my future self will want? Please, tell me your secret. It's kind of like the idea of telling someone that they'll eventually want kids, despite their statements to the contrary. Yes, they might want children someday, and yes, I might want a different kind of wedding when and if I actually make it to that point. I wanted a big wedding a couple of years ago, even joining The Knot (GAH!!!), but that I believe was naivete.

Plus, with the economy and all ... (my personal go-to phrase)

Alright, off to discuss color combinations with my sister. Fun for me.