Wedding woes

I have been thinking of and feeling so many things recently that I feel as if my brain had been removed, put through a blender, combined with some horseradish, and then replaced. There are so many things that I want to write about, to express, but it seems we never get to say all that we want to, so let me at least make a start with my wedding woes.

I was on Facebook last night - which has become a rather rare occurrence between work, moving house, and watching Timothy - and I saw some photos that my friend Laurie had posted of her friend’s bridal shower. It wasn’t the pictures themselves that made me pause, since I only knew Laurie and none of the other girls. Rather, it was the event itself that caused me considerable vexation. Why should a wedding shower vex me?

I realized last night as I was lying in bed that I have only been to one wedding shower (besides my own) in my 27 years, and that was for my sister. I thought further and realized that I have only been in one wedding (besides my own), and that was my sister’s.

I know I’ve completely overanalyzed this now, but it really made me think hard, and everything I thought just made me sad. Two years ago I was asked to be a bridesmaid in the wedding of my best friend and roommate, Heather (see The Missing Bridesmaid), but I was unable to go because I was in Nigeria and couldn’t afford the airfare. Now I wish I had gone. To be honest, I don’t expect to ever be asked again to be a bride’s attendant.

Two of my friends are getting married this summer. Jessica, once one of my two best friends from high school, is getting married in Texas in June. Anna, once a good friend from Wheaton, is getting married in Ohio in August. And oh! How I’d love to be at both weddings! They are both people whose weddings I always imagined I would attend.

When I was 11 or 12, I expected I’d be in all my best friends’ weddings, but somehow, that’s not how it worked out at all. I know now it was a silly dream, but I just expected that’s how it would be. If you had told me then that my friends and I would drift apart, or that we’d live on separate continents, I never would have believed it. Now all but one of my best friends from my Hillcrest days is married. A part of me has kept dreaming, kept hoping that someone would think of me as a close enough friend to ask me to be in her wedding, but the realist in me says I’ve set myself up for disappointment year after year.

The fact is that I don’t make friends easily, and I tend to cling to friendships like a drowning cat – claws extended. How can I expect anyone to want to maintain a friendship with me in such a situation of desperation? At Hillcrest, we were all forced together since our class was so small, and I think my friends were decidedly glad to have freedom after the tightness of our tiny school. It hurt when we left high school and I heard so seldom from the people I’d loved so dearly and spent every waking moment with for 9 years.

But I’d heard that in college we would make the best friends we’d ever have. So I bulldozed through the frustration, loss, and bitterness (or am still bulldozing, perhaps) and tried to make some friends. In my four years at college, I would say I only had three close girl friends and one close guy friend. Sure, I had lots of friends, and I’ve since graduation become closer to some of my classmates from Wheaton, which is just kinda weird. But in my whole four years of college, we’re talking about four (4) friends. I know without any doubt that these are friend for life, and that no matter what happens, where we go, or with whom we end up, when we get together, it will be like coming home. And one of these dear ones is already married.

It comes down to this: neither of my friends getting married this summer is one of my close friends anymore – whether or not I like it. And it’s expensive to travel all the way from California to anywhere. (This is part of why, as much as I like California, I would rather live in the Midwest.) And at weddings, the bride hardly gets to say boo to her guests unless they’re attendants or family. Is there really any point, then, in my making the pilgrimage to either wedding? I don’t want to be just another name in the guest book. I want my presence to mean something to somebody. So I guess it’s better to just save my pennies this summer, cry a little, and wait. The wedding season of my life is nearly over, but I still have four close friends who are unmarried – one from Hillcrest and three from Wheaton – so I want to make absolutely sure I don’t have to miss the weddings where my presence will mean diddly squat. So here’s to saving pennies – with disappointment, with a little residual bitterness, but most of all with hope.