Last Saturday I went to the wedding of an old childhood friend. It was essentially the first wedding of my “generation” that I’d attended. And naturally there were waterworks and feelings of depression and lots of alcoholic-induced “I hate looooveeeee” declarations.
Yes, I was that single girl last Saturday, drinking her sorrows away at the bar. It was rather sad. Actually, if memory serves me right, the bartender was hitting on me a lot. He looked rather old (in his 30s, which may have been OK with me in the past unfortunately, but I’m totally done with that!) and had an accent. And I think I may have started the shenanigans, when I went up, already drunk, to order a sex on the beach (did I mention it was open bar?). The subsequent times I went to order drinks, he asked if I had a boyfriend, how old I was, if I would dance with him, etc. Blechh. I like attention and all, but not when they’re from creepy older European bartenders.
I remember crying at the wedding while the bride and groom did their first dance. I remember wistfully thinking, “I wish I could believe in love…I wish it exists out there for me…” a lot. I remember me repeating, “I wish I could get married someday.” Because in all honesty, I don’t believe it. It’s not meant for me. I don’t do relationships, I don’t do boyfriends, I don’t think any man will know how to respect me, yada yada. Don’t meant to sound like I’m begging for pity or something like that, but it’s the truth. I don’t see myself ending up in a real grown-up relationship any time soon and I’m done dealing with boys and their shit. I think I’m okay with being “alone” for a really really long time. Someday I’ll write down here why and who it is exactly I’m angry with (because of course, there’s always “someone” that makes one become this way). It’s just that it’s a really really unnecessarily long story.