Archive | 8:01 am

Nothing screams “SINGLE” like having an entire church pew to yourself at a wedding.

13 Nov

200015012-001

This was the realization that struck me right across the face. When I just happened to have an entire church pew. All to myself. At a wedding.

As people filtered into the church, I pleaded with my eyes that they sit next to me. This just served to scare them away. I could feel the people staring at me. Their pity as they gave me a fake smile as if to say, “It’s okay that you’re ALL ALONE and that no one want to sit with you.” Or, “Even though I don’t want to sit next to you, it doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you.” The entire church was packed, all except my pew. The only thing that would have made me stand out more would have been a spotlight highlighting the empty seat next to me. Awesome, so very awesome.

I never know quite how to handle the whole “date at a wedding” scenario. In most cases, I’m happy to go by myself-just as long as I know more than 9 people. Saturday’s wedding was the first that I had gone to where I took a date, at least a straight one. In the past, I had dragged my main gay, Claude, to such affairs. Sadly, he was too busy being selfish (celebrating his birthday) to serve as my faux date. Instead, I found myself having to scramble at the last minute to find a date. Mr. Dirty Ruddy Sailor is one of the last people I would have thought of, but he accepted my invitation.

There is nothing like a wedding to remind a singleton of just how single they truly are. Especially if it’s a wedding where you don’t know a lot of people. The wedding I attended was just such an occasion. 315 people, all dressed to the nines, and I knew about 9 of them. Mr. Dirty Ruddy Sailor had agreed to go to the wedding with me on one condition: no ceremony for him. So I sat alone in my church pew and prayed that the ceremony wouldn’t last for half an eternity. It was a Greek wedding. I was sh*t out of luck.

The reception was far better than the ceremony, but only because I could “claim” to have a date. It was amazing to see how people were more willing to come and talk to me when they realized that I wasn’t a social pariah as it seemed that I could muster up a male companion from somewhere. Hey, whatever, as long as I didn’t have to sit at a table all by myself. Or stand in the corner while everyone else danced, and longingly stare out at the dance floor (something that I would never actually do since I hate dancing).

While I was sitting with Mr. Dirty Ruddy Sailor at our table after dinner, something occurred to me. We had been talking about our desire to be married and have children (not with one another), and our past failed relationships. In the midst of our conversation I noticed that he was watching all of the people dancing, and could tell that he wanted to be up there, shaking his ass on the dance floor. Had I been the good date that I claimed to be last week, I would have sucked it up and gone to dance with him. Instead, I asked him to get me another drink and offered him his 4th piece of wedding cake.

Advertisements