I hate weddings.
Sometimes I fall asleep in the back row with my legs awkwardly tucked beneath me and my head on a stranger’s shoulder. But the ones that make me cry are the worst. It always starts small, just a little sniffle, maybe a tear or two. It ends worse.
I have a fear of weddings. I don’t even really know why. Maybe there is a name for that. Elophobia. Derivative of the word elope. No just kidding I just made that up.
Every time I get anywhere close to marriage I will find any number of reasons to ditch the guy. He’s too tall, he’s too short, he’s too young, he’s too old, I don’t like his shampoo. But I do like HIM and that’s what’s supposed to count. It always ends with me breaking his heart and leaving the key under the mat for him to collect his belongings from my place while I’m out.
I hope it doesn’t always end like that.
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She says she hates weddings.
I proposed to her after 2 years of dating. 2 of the best years of my life. We were out to dinner and afterwards we walked along the river and took turns pointing out our favourite places in the city. After awhile we got tired of our little game and instead just walked along silently, arms held limply by our sides, hearts thudding in our chests. Chances are mine was louder. I stopped walking and it took her a minute or two to notice and when she did she spun around then cocked her head to one side like a puppy. The right corner of her mouth turned upwards in a crooked smile and she said to me in that voice of hers “why’d you stop, watcha doing?” And I said I’m fixing my shoelaces they came untied. So I knelt down, making a big display of it, and fiddled for a moment with my shoelace, then when she wasn’t looking I pulled the box out of my pocket. She looked back at me and smiled until she noticed what was in my hands and stopped. “Will you marry me?” I said. She said nothing. That was when I noticed she was crying and I didn’t know what to do. “Why are you crying?” She said nothing. She turned and walked the other way, away from the river, away from the box with the ring, and away from me.
That night I cried. I called my mum and asked “what’s the matter with me?” She said “you are perfect to me”. But that’s not good enough.
One day she will wake up and realize what she lost.
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He was good. He was too good. One day I will wake up and realize what I lost.
