When I first began studying at Boston University, my goal was to complete a degree in classics and then become the editor of a wedding magazine. For a few years in high school I had been obsessed with all aspects of wedding planning, and wanted to someday change the industry into something less tacky (e.g., ban all matching bridesmaid dresses and cash bars). I even lost sleep over what style of dress I should wear when my wedding day came around.
This career goal, however, was short-lived. I soon discovered I wanted to pursue classics more seriously post-graduation. My changed attitude on the world led me to resent my original dream job. After freshman year, the very thought of weddings and 30-something-year-olds in ill-fitting white dresses repulsed me, and I vowed to never become one of those tasteless, pathetic women.
I now believe that most weddings in today’s rather commercialized society are actually very selfish. It’s doubtful that people beyond one’s immediate family really want to show up at a bridal shower in some suburb to watch someone open a toaster oven, and a few weeks later attend a boring ceremony followed up by an awkward reception with watered-down drinks.
After reading the first part of my column, it should be no surprise that my friends told me last night I’m not the marrying type. My disdain for wedding celebrations has apparently caused me to become non-committal, but I think it also involves the fear of growing older and accepting that it will no longer be socially acceptable to live my current lifestyle for much longer. I’m not sure that it’s possible to “fall in love” with another human being, but other human beings are definitely fun for a few hours.
I just found out that one of my best friends from childhood is getting married in the spring, which is somewhat alarming. I’m happy she’s found peace in her life, but it’s difficult for me to understand that someone else can surrender their independence so willingly. I just hope she makes a good choice with the bouquets.
It’s been about six years since I’ve had a relationship lasting longer than a month (we broke up because I kept accidentally calling him the wrong name). I should probably adjust my attitude soon, since I don’t want to be “that” friend who is still thirty and single with her only prospects being baking and maybe a dog.
The idea of someone else sleeping in my bed night after night is equally nauseating, and frankly I consider it to be an invasion of privacy. At the same time, I would never want to live completely alone, and believe the ideal situation is to live with a small group of friends. Mostly because every bump in the night raises my blood pressure inch by inch.
What a cynical column. Note to my future self: white washes you out – don’t do it! If my future husband ever reads this, I’m so sorry. Also, can you pick me up some pink roses? I love pink roses.
Sydney Shea is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at [email protected].