08 May 2009

Romance? Hmmm, I think I'll pass...

Ok, I am NOT an incurable romantic…

200 episodes of GREY’S ANATOMY culminated last night with a wedding. Not with the wedding everyone anticipated, not the one that all the trailers for the episode suggested, but a wedding nonetheless. Halfway through the episode, I felt like I was going to throw up – from all the sappiness and feel good moments and displays of bonding and friendship. YUCK!

Some people may be surprised by this admission, but for those who know me well – probably not so much. I wasn’t always such a cynic. I recently found a list, written in a much more childish handwriting, that listed my wedding party and my desired colors and even some songs that I wanted sung at my wedding. Only thing missing: the name of the groom. The list (which I threw away or packed up or otherwise hid away) was not dated, but I suspect that it was compiled sometime in my early 20s – when all my other friends and relatives were contemplating marriage and when I was on a constant spin cycle as a bridesmaid. Everybody was doing it, so I better get prepared – right? YUCK! (again)

Time passed and there was a proposal that was rejected (that’s a story for another time) and after serving as a bridesmaid more than a dozen times, I finally put my foot down and said, “no more (ugly) dresses for me” and stopped standing up in front of churches in uncomfortable shoes and dresses that never got worn again. And then I got sucked into being a wedding coordinator or hostess or something else related to weddings. I finally put my foot down on that too and said, “You know what? From this moment forward, the only thing I want to do at a wedding is warm a pew, bring a gift and dance at the reception.” And that has been my stance for at least half a decade – probably longer. (And we won't even talk about the time I helped decorate the garden venue for my ex-boyfriend’s wedding!) YUCK! (third time)

Do I believe in “marriage”? I guess for some people it is a wonderful thing. For others, not so much. I don’t know if I ever truly believed in “happily ever after”. Even as a child, I didn’t have a lot of positive examples of great marriages. My parents divorced before I was 10 years old; my aunts and uncles were all divorced; and even in those marriages that had lasted for centuries, one (if not both) of the parties didn’t seem all that happy to me. [HINT: Longevity does NOT equal happiness – sometimes (as one friend confided) it’s “cheaper to keep her” (or him)] And even as I read the Harlequin romances or watched the sappy chick flicks, I would rail at the characters as they went round and round the mulberry bush before coming together. And fidelity – are you serious? One person forever and ever? Didn’t (and still doesn’t) make a whole lot of sense to me.

Someone once asked me, “Haven’t you ever loved someone so much that you cannot imagine life without them?” I immediately responded, “Obviously not since I am living life as a single woman right now.” She, a newlywed at the time, looked at me with pity and sadness in her eyes – while I gazed back at her in the exact same way. Don’t get me wrong: if you are married and believe that you are truly happy in yours, more power to you. I just don’t see it happening for me – at least no time soon. I figure I will be one of those women who gets married for the first time in my 50s or 60s – and everyone will be surprised and will look at the poor guy who marries me with wonder, amazement and probably a little bit of pity.

So, to all my friends who are constantly trying to figure out how I can be content and happy as a single woman – and to all the friends who are always trying to set me up with the ”perfect” guy – and to the uncle who EVERY TIME he sees me asks me if I have finally started dating – and even to my godsister who has a long list of wishes for me and who loves to overanalyze why every relationship in my life went “wrong” - stop worrying about me. I love my life just the way it is right now. I am not sitting around waiting for my prince to come and “rescue” me from … whatever it is I am supposed to need rescuing from. And that is the beauty of NOT being an incurable romantic.

Be blessed.

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