Why I'm SOOO not getting married

I just returned to DC after a week in Texas for my Oldest Best Friend's Wedding, not that she's old but that the friendship is ancient, think 1988, which is approximately when we were both born. It was a lovely ceremony and she looked absolutely gorgeous, but as the days went by, I realized that I like being single a bit too much to touch marriage for a long time, because this is probably what would happen...

Day One: Rehearsal.
Technically this isn't day one, it's like day 378 depending on how long I've been engaged, but it's day one of why I'm not getting married. The groom forgot his brain 3 blocks away from the ceremony location, which means he's 30 mins late to rehearsal because he forgot to pick up the groomsmen from the hotel. As the star, bridezilla, that would be me, I will be tyrannically making the lives of all of my bridesmaids miserable, and God help the poor girl I ask to be my MOH, because as my mother keeps telling me I'm a horribly needy person when things get stressful. Not that I can't handle the stress of work or life, but when I get sick or overtly emotional, I just over delegate, which will annoy everyone.
Any way, the rehearsal goes on and the preacher can't seem to understand why I want a unity soda instead of unity sand or unity wine or a unity candle, So I get a bit peeved and argue with god's messenger, which will piss off my mother and more than likely enthuse my brother.

My groom will probably suggest a small cousin to be flower girl, but since I don't enjoy the pitter patter of screaming children that will be nixed.
Some unknown relative will probably suggest a ring bearer, but I just don't trust a small child to hold onto the one thing that's keeping me from old-maid-hood. So I'll nix that, which will undoubtedly displease the poor child's parents and then they'll want their gift back and I'll be down a set of doilies, and heaven help the woman who can run a household with only 36 doilies.

So we'll go to the rehearsal dinner, which will be a nightmare, because I'm quite positive someone will give a toast about my embarrassing habits and embarrassing boys I've kissed, because let's be real some people are still squirming over easter 2007. I'll more than likely hear horribly awkward and uncomely stories about my groom, which will made me wrinkle my nose in disgust and someone will probably slap me on the arm because my face will stay that way and no one wants to see that face stuck in that way in the wedding photos.

We'll depart but not until we've had the necessary round of hugs and kisses and crying, which will drive me crazy because Im really not one for all those emotions.

Day 2: Wedding Day aka Double D Day

9 a.m. and I've more than likely already lost something majorly important to the wedding, because lets be real. I have a tendency to misplace things like keys, shoes, and articles of clothing (if anyone has seen a longsleeve black tshirt with a sweetheart neckline, I'm looking for it). This means that in the time I spend searching for this, I'm probably late to pick up the 8 bridesmaids from the hotel, so we're late for the hair lady which means now the makeup lady will be running behind, and since at least 4 of the maids will be girls from my soror, they'll be running on Phi time anyway, so they'll be at least 30 mins behind that. Knowing my taste in men, the groom will probably still be hungover and covered in boa feathers from the night before, which means he'll be getting a tongue lashing from someone about the morals and virtues or marriage, so he'll feel bad and then walk out to find a bar, where he'll get more alcohol, which means, that's right, my groom is drunk and it's only 11 a.m.

11 a.m. I'm going to be starving. And when I'm hungry, not pretty. Since I spent the morning racing across town, I haven't eaten and now the pizza place is late delivering our pies. When they finally do get there, someone will be so ecstatic to eat that they'll clumsily drop it on their dress hanging in the corner across the room, which means they probably flung it over there just to piss. me. off. This will create a sudden rage of unhappiness because now the turquoise dress has red stains and pizza grease and no one will take that on, on such short notice.

1 pm and Emily Ann is unhappy with how her dress fits, because she lost 20 lbs from her latest round of exercising, so it hangs like a bag, which means someone will have to take it in, which may or may not cause a blood stain because the person pricked their finger because they can't sew. The groom may or may not have lost the rings because the best man may or may not have had them in his pocket at the bachelor party and a girl named Candy Cane may or may not have been a little more handsy than necessary.

4 pm: Guests have started to arrive, which means 30 of my closest relatives are in an enclosed setting with great acoustics. This means that it's very. very. loud. and I'm starting to get a migraine. I'll start to get snippy and someone might lose a finger or toe or tongue. After a quick bout of pictures where we have to stand in two rows because of the damn pizza stain, I'll notice that there's pizza stain now on my dress because the photographer put so and so behind me, and since we had to get close, she pressed her dress against mine, because we were all tipping back some buttery nipples in the bridal suite and forgot about the stain. Meanwhile, due to the noise, my groom will start hitting the collective groomsmen flask, because that's just what he need's more alcohol...

INSERT MASSIVE HUNT FOR A SHRUG/SHAWL/SCARF/CARDIGAN THAT MATCHES MY DRESS TO HIDE THE STAIN

5 :30 p.m. some how I managed to get married. Some how I manage to not stain my dress with the unity soda, even though I suspect my groom's soda was spiked with straight jack daniels...

6:30 p.m.: Reception: I don't know who, and I don't know by what means of alcohol, but someone is going to puke before the toasts. My garter will be tossed and hit someone in the eye. The chicken dance will be played (EGH). The photographer will step on the toe of one of the drunks and he'll break her camera. The cake will be toppled over by running children, and the baker will have misunderstood my need for red velvet cake in the armadillo groom's cake and the joke will be lost when it's some sort of mottled grey color. Since it's my family there will probably be copious amounts of alcohol imbibed, which means now someone's upset and yelling at one of my poor groom's parents because they sat at the ADUlT ROSE TABLE! someone will have to break it up, and, luckily, they'll manage to get by with only a broken nose.

By 11:20 p.m. at least 3 people will have been tossed out for disorderly conduct and 20 people will be rotating through the bathroom with various stages of upset stomach. I'll get to leave right after someone fails to make it to the bathroom and pukes on my dress, sending me into a flurry of tears and a hail of fists beating on my new husband's chest because we should have left an hour ago. The beating on his chest will cause all the alcohol he's imbibed over the night to rise up and he'll further the ruining of my dress, and then the limo driver wont let us in the limo, because he's drunky mac drunkerson.

So no. I think I'll avoid a wedding at all costs. Because the shit show that would be sure to occur, would mar everyone else's idea of wedding around me. Plus I really don't like the idea of people staring at me and judging me for my need to wear a bright orange dress with turquoise shoes instead of traditional white.

For now, I'm quite happy being single. At least happy not to be headed towards the alter, any. time. soon.