April 5, 2009
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Be proud of me
When faced with an impromptu wedding dress-buying-session yesterday, which was not on the agenda, I looked pleased, I smiled nicely, I said all the right things, and I did make sure I’d made it round the corner away from the rest of the married-or-about-to-be-married set of ladies I’d spent all afternoon with before bursting into terribly messy noisy tears just by Bond Street Station (yes. Full of class, me. Bawling on Oxford Street). The agenda was supposed to be bridesmaid shoes and bridesmaid jewellery for Eff’s wedding. This was achieved with splendour. I just never expected to witness her sister-in-law buy her own wedding dress. The girl looked so surprised, and so pleased, and so shocked, and the amount of female emotion going on was just a bit too much.
I never want to go in that Berketex shop again, which is a bit of a bugger, frankly, because that’s where the bridesmaid dress fittings are. It’s not that anyone made me feel worthless (although it was a bit off, I feel, Eff telling me that if I met someone before the wedding, yes, I could bring them along), it’s not that anyone was trying to upset me. It’s just that I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever manage a successful relationship. It’s taken me nearly two years to get over the Anthropologist properly. I’m not so scared of the idea of getting close to someone anymore. But I’m still scared. I still panic. I still worry.
Not that many people seem to have them nowadays: successful relationships. Not that getting married is any sort of guarantee of happiness. Not that I expect anything but a struggle, and being left on my own when I’m old because men die so much younger.
I had that moment in the wedding dress shop. I was still a student. My dress was an ex-sample, and it was £40, and it needed cleaning (it came up lovely) and it needed taking in. It would have been stupid to wear that dress to marry that man – or, rather, it would have been stupid to marry that man (and he’s likely to be at Eff’s wedding – this is the problem with University weddings. I’ve not been invited to most of them, as I never was one for going out pubbing, which seems to be the way most of my friends stayed in touch). I would have been miserable, living in Coventry, feeling at a dead end by now. I made the right decision.
It’s just a bit lonely today. So I decided to block Eff’s wedding stole, and do ten tons of laundry.
I must sort out waterproof makeup for Eff’s wedding. And remember not to feel sorry for myself.
Sigh.
xxx
Comments (4)
I find a lot in this that feels so familiar. I hope you’re felling better.
@markearthtourist - let me know any waterproof makeup tips you’ve picked up on the way
Ah, well. You know lots of married ladies look at your glamorous single life with envy. Also, check out this essay by Tristan Miller: http://en.nothingisreal.com/wiki/Why_I_Will_Never_Have_a_Girlfriend It’s very funny and also he told me a few months ago that he’s still single and I should send lovely mathematicians his way. I bet you could count as a lovely mathematician.
@fibermom - Hmmm. I did look (the site took an age to load over JANet!), and, well he has a ferret, and can spell and speak foreign languages, and thus reminds me of the person my ex-fiancé wanted to be, so I wouldn’t even try to pass myself off as a mathematician, but thank you. My glamorous single life saw me defrosting the freezer this evening, and spending an age on the phone to my Mum who is viewing this crisis as something to cluck over. Am now alliteratively full of cramp, codeine, and cava and watching David Starkey explaining why Henry VIII behaved the way he did. ~x~