Tonight we watched 27 Dresses because I hadn’t seen it yet. A friend of mine is an extra in the movie, in some deleted scenes or something, so I felt kind of obliged to see it. It was okay, tolerable and all that. Katherine Heigel (?) was beautiful, of course, and managed to make all those stupid bridesmaid dresses look amazing. But all of that aside, the movie kind of irritated the living shit out of me. At one point in my life, I thought I would have that – a wedding, a groom, all my friends in beautiful dresses (my choice in dresses would be far superior to anyone else, you see), lots of flowers, dancing, my dad giving me away, all of that – and now just the thought of it makes me furious. Not furious out of jealousy. Furious out of how it’s expected of me, as a woman, to want that. How I’m expected to long for a husband and how at my age, I should probably just settle for the first guy who comes along. Who cares if he’s not the man of my dreams? I’m 30, if I’m going to get married, I’d better do it NOW.
But it’s that’s not okay. That expectation of me is not okay. And it’s not okay for other people to say that I’m lying when I say I don’t want that. I don’t want a husband. I want a partner. I want someone who is on my side, someone who will face this fucked up world with me, which yes, is exactly what a marriage is. But I don’t want the wedding. I don’t want the supposed fairy tale day. I want the man who is my equal, who sees me as his equal, and most of all, I just want to be happy. If being happy includes being on my own for the rest of my life, then that’s fine. I think I’ve done pretty well for myself thus far. I’d like to get a little more play (WHO WOULDN’T, I SAY) but that’s another story all together.
So there you go. I really need to get on with my writing. Things have been so crazy around here lately that I can’t really focus on anything but those things that need taken care of immediately.
Say nice things to me, Internets. Show me love.
