It’s difficult to be tough while wearing crap-brown taffeta. Not to mention being the only single bridesmaid at my friend’s wedding. So when an extremely obnoxious fellow bridesmaid gave me a speech on how tragic my single life must be and how she would “absolutely die” if she were ever single again and how she was “so incredibly happy” in her marriage, I wanted to crawl into bed and drink a bottle of wine (which I did, after the reception).
But rather than let her see me suffer, I pulled up my big-girl panties and said to her ,“I’m really glad you are happy and I really hope you are… (Here, I paused for dramatic effect while giving a suspicious look) because I think what would be even worse is to be in a terrible marriage and have to go around pretending to everyone that it was the most wonderful thing ever. Could you imagine?!”
Then, I turned on my dyed-to-match heels and walked away, leaving her in shock with her mouth agape. Take that, wretched woman! (By the way, she is now divorced. Karma is a bitch.)
It was right then and there that I made an oath to myself that when I got married, I would never, ever make a single woman feel like shit simply for being single.
I like to think that I have lived up to that oath. Now married for two years, I still have many single girlfriends and try to be the beacon of hope that it is possible to find true love over the age of 35, while also being the “Single ladies rule!” cheerleader.
Sometimes, I fear, it is a precarious place to be. I remember when I was single and married people would say to me, “Oh you’ll find a guy like my David and you will be so happy. Marriage is wonderful.” I wanted to go throw up into their his-and-her towels in their well-appointed guest bathroom. When you are single and a couple tells you how happy they are, it’s like dangling a cheesecake in front of a diabetic, telling them how delicious it tastes. They can have it but you can’t. It is cruel and twisted and must stop.