Posted by: pendrops | October 11, 2007

groom is a jackass

ass.jpg

“Call it off!”

“Leave now…you can do it…I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”

“Get up and walk out, sister-friend!”

“He’s not worth it!” I screamed, internally of course, as I sat sipping tea a few days ago.

Maybe I was way off-base. Maybe it wasn’t fair for me to call it. Maybe it was downright wrong for me to determine that their marriage would be doomed based on a five minute meeting I watched the couple have with their wedding photographer.

But everything from the groom’s slouched lean, to his shifty eyes, to his obvious indifference, to his constipated laughter, to the way he kept his distance from the blushing bride, to the way he walked briskly in front of her as they came and went pointed toward doom. And it made me nauseas.

I telepathically willed her to go to the restroom so I could follow her in and tell her to shut down the show. Tell her she was settling for the horse when knight-in-shining-armor was probably around the corner. But she didn’t go and I sat stone still, sad and seething on her behalf. It was all I could do.

As I watched the train wreck a few feet away, something sparked my mind and I began remembering the days before my own wedding, and the days before love. In flickers and flashes only a moment long, I remembered it all.

The waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. And then waiting a few more years after that. Going 26 ½ years before even being asked on a date. Entertaining thoughts of settling, entertaining feelings of inadequacy, entertaining ideas of moving on to the next crush because the guy I thought might be that “one” rejected me by not-so-subtly commenting on his “ideal” girl, making sure I knew it wasn’t me.

And all of this, every tear of pain and confusion and anger, filtered through my consciousness as I watched this utter loser treat his beautiful betrothed without worth. I suppose I thought about it all because I’ve come out on the other side, the locust-years-redeemed side.

And in light of all that, I would say to this woman (if she wanted my opinion), “Hold out.” Yeah, loneliness can be a kind of Chinese water torture. The comments by married people (“You’ll understand once you’re married” was a favorite of mine)…drip. The Friday and Saturday nights surfing e-Harmony…drip. The fifth-wheel-ness of it all…drip. It’s not enough to kill you, but it’ll make you crazy.

Still, a season of alone-ness must be better than a life sentence with a moron? Am I right?

I shuddered when they left, the groom swaggering ahead, seeming embarrassed by this precious woman who followed him out. I wish I could have told him she was the one settling. That he didn’t deserve her beauty, her laughter, her kisses, her days, her years, her dreams. That he would not – at current rate – be able to give her what she deserved, what she needed, what she craved. That he was marrying way above him.

But I didn’t. I just watched her walk behind him, head down, tugging her hair behind her ears and adjusting her glasses.

“Now, I’m not gettin’ to the church till I absolutely have to,” I heard the groom say, turning to the photographer to remind him that there were “plans” with the groomsmen.

The girl laughed nervously and the photographer made a note in his book. I’m sure he was writing what I was thinking: “Note to self: groom is a jackass.”

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Responses

  1. And in light of all that, I would say to this woman (if she wanted my opinion), “Hold out.”

    AMEN!


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