Tomorrow I’m taking off for Virginia to go to a friend’s wedding.
I hate weddings.
I have been to more than my fair share of disaster weddings where it was abundantly clear to most, if not all of the guests, that this was going to be one of those “starter marriages” where the parties involved learned the importance of non-violent communication, but not how to actually DO it, and then divorced and had better luck with partner #2.
But this wedding is not one of those. This wedding is one where I know the bride and groom will be life partners. Both of them are older (pushing 40). Neither of them has been married before. Each of them had totally resigned themselves to being single, and happily so, and then they found each other.
I know the bride, not the groom. She last visited here 2 autumns ago. We climbed Gillispie Point on a glorious fall day. We made and ate great food and drank copious amount of good red wine. We talked about love and children and friends. She said she had many friends, lots of neices and nephews to dote on, a new house, a great job and lots of gratitude for all that life had shown and taught her.
She said, “Kath, don’t feel sorry for me! I’m really happy!”
And I believed her. Because it was true.
Would she like a life partner to share all this? “Damn straight!” she said. Did she think it was going to happen? “Not likely.”
When she left I thought of all the married people I knew and none of them seemed as together, centered and complete as her.
Then, last year, out of the blue, she met someone. It’s the guy she’s going to marry on Saturday.
Usually, I don’t go to weddings. I send the most expensive gift on the registry and opt out of the charade. Because if I go, I wind up being the snarky bitch in the back practicing advanced eye rolling techniques as the minister says all that insincere crappola.
But this weekend is going to be different. I am actually going, for one thing, which is huge, and I will try to find a seat mid to front in the church. I will beam, and shoot them a double “thumbs up” as they walk down the aisle “man and wife.”
Then I’ll put on my dancin’ shoes and boogaloo at the reception in their honor, because I will be so happy not to be cynical at a wedding, for once. It will be such a relief to feel hopeful and optimistic and enthusiastic.
I won’t even roll my eyes if the band plays Proud Mary. I swear.
(“Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river.”)
That’s how much a sucker I am for a happy ending.