If Belinda Carlisle is right and heaven is a place on earth, well then so is hell, and I found its location on Sunday. In Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series Mt. Olympus, the home of the Greek Pantheon of Gods, is this ever moving cloud dwelling paradise. Mt. Olympus moves around resting over the earthly city that is the home of the most modern thinking, in this case New York City. Likewise, hell, in my opinion, moves around coming to rest on the place where humiliation meets romantic comedy like missteps.
On Sunday I went to the wedding of a couple of friends. My brother was a groomsmen, my parents were being obsequious hangers on, you know sitting up close near the family going to all the pre-wedding family events, and I was sitting with a couple of friends safely surrounded by people that didn’t know me or knew me well enough not to ask “so, when is it going to be your turn” like this whole marriage thing was as non-committal as waiting in line for 2 hours for the newest rollercoaster at Six Flags and then backing out at the end. So a ton of sports analogies by the Pastor, candle lightings, and endless sand pourings later the wedding ceremony was done and hell, aka the Wedding Reception, was about to commence.
Arriving at the wedding reception I collected my name card from the table and made my way into the ballroom looking for my table, table 17. Before this day, I liked the number 17, actually, in reality I had no real opinions about the number 17, it was an okay number, nothing special, but not bad either…and then it happened…I spotted my friends at the table! Yay! Good deal, even though it was a wedding with assigned seating, I was seated with friends…awesome! Making my way over I found a seat and then I looked around; one, two, three, four single women at one table…hold the phone what was happening here, I love my friends but, what was this table all about? Sitting down my friend leaned over and said “we are the SINGLE table”. Then it all became glaringly obvious. All us single gals were seated together. As if the bouquet throwing, and “when is your turn” questions weren’t humiliation enough, we were now the girls at the single table. I HATE THE NUMBER 17!
Let me just tell you, the perpetually dating, the long married, the guy who will never get asked “when’s it your turn”, you the person that has never had the misfortune of sitting at the single table, it is just like you see in those romantic comedy movies where the protagonist is just sitting there at a wedding reception thinking “just fucking shoot me”. There is no charming stranger that sweeps you off your feet or makes the seating arrangement seem providential. Instead, there is niggling thought in your brain about “what were they thinking when they put us all together?! Were they trying to be nice, am I being overly sensitive or is this just a little bit fucked up?!” Of course, all of this would have been bearable if our singleness wasn’t pointed out, and highlighted as the reason behind the migrant wonderings of single male friends.
Singleness in your 30’s is not very often observed in the wild human population, especially the wedding going human population, because usually singletons as Bridget Jones would call them, just know better, or at least you would THINK they know better. Sitting at our table was another girl who was holding on tightly to the arm of her boyfriend while simultaneously trying to eat samosas and drink water, it was actually a pretty impressive feat. Then, in a moment of WTF she started the inquisition. Looking to my far left she started her inquest, like so:
– “Mai, are you single?” – Mai said “Yes”. Like the CIA’s star pupil she moved to the next table occupant…
– “Rebecca, are you single?” – Rebecca said “Yes”…two down…two to go!
– “Rhiann, are you single?” – Rhiann said “Yes”. Then, this admittance wasn’t enough she went onto probe Rhiann by asking “How long have you been single?! Why are you single?!!!!” After Rhiann didn’t answer the rapid fire questions, and I don’t think she could due to the glassy eyed look about her eyes the mirrored Mai’s and Rebecc’s over this line of questioning, she moved onto me.
– Looking at me she says, “I don’t know your name, are you single?” I answered, “My name is K, and to answer your question, yes I am single, I think everyone at this table with the exception of you…is single”.
– She responds with “My name is Jen and I was telling so and so (I forgot her boyfriend’s name) that all the guys are coming over to this table because they know you this is the table with the single girls, they know you girls are single”
OMG! Did she actually say this?! This girl who knew Rebecca, Mai, and Rhiann? Did she just put the wondering bys of our male friends on the fact that we are single, and not the fact that we were the table closest to the freaking buffet line?! I soon found out from Rebecca and Rhiann that this bitch had been dating her boyfriend for 1.5 months. That is seriously like the equivalent of a the blink of an eye IN HUMAN YEARS, and here she is talking like the wedding bells are about to toll for her and about the rest of us “SINGLE GALS” GAG ME WITH A SPOON!!!! I was sooo pissed! Shouldn’t she, being our age, and not married know better than to ask be this stupid about her question asking and observation making?!
Assigned wedding seating is like pre-assigned teams in gym class. No one is the last kid picked for the team, but then again you have to wonder if the teacher was just being sadistic putting the “team” together they way they did. All of us girls at the table were just bowled over that we were at the “single” table! It was awful…I am serious…and for that girl to point it out like she was sitting pretty with an engagement ring on her finger was just salt in the wound, I tell you! SALT IN THE WOUND!
The one good thing about our table was that we were three feet from the exit, so we literally put down our dinner forks, put on our coats and were out the door! LOL! No lollygagging for people to call “all the single ladies up to catch the bouquet”. Nope. I have had enough of that nonsense to last me a lifetime! Anyway, I was pretty much uncool with that whole situation and how it played out! I mean really, there was no point to me doing my makeup and hair and wearing 4.5 inch heels and tromping around in the rain! To make everything worse, I was wearing this dress that poked me!! It was this cute dress made by some French company that I picked up from Anthropologie and it had what can only be described as “boning” in the bodice area in the way of thick plastic that poked its way out of the fabric and poked me the whole evening while the top of the dress slipped down making a cute, “could be worn to church” dress into something salacious! Seriously, it was not my evening! Hell really is a place on earth!