Zilla, that is. If you’ve been paying attention (and your eyes haven’t glazed over reading my boring non dating related drivel) you remember that my twin sister got married a few weeks ago (as I just found this in my drafts folder, it’s now been 3 years, not a few weeks but it’s still relevant-ish). And that every single person in my family is insanely self involved. Aside from me, that is. 😉 No, really. So sis is getting married again and I figured it wouldn’t bother me all that much to not be involved in any way, shape or form. I mean, we’re only twins after all. We only shared a womb for 9 months. I only used to defend her in grade school when kids would pick on her. I only used to send her money in college when she would run out of funds on her food card. I only paid for her 1st wedding. Why would I think I’d be upset by not being included in wedding #2? She’s an old fart like me, this is her 2nd wedding and why would it even be some big huge ‘event’. Oh wait, it was. And the festivities spanned the better part of an entire week. And I was included in none of them. Nice.
Anyway, day of, I went to the ceremony early so that I could help my sister get ready and/or go get anything she may have forgotten. I was greeted with a ‘hi, you’re early, you can come in for a second, then you need to leave’. Uh, okay. Happy fucking wedding day to you. The ceremony was lovely. I was included in all of one family photo, not acknowledged in the least, and that was that. Gotta love family.
Until the reception. The reception was being held at a terrific restaurant in town (which I have since been banned from ….. read on). I was one of 70 guests and was seated nowhere near the head table. Okay. I was also the token single person amongst a sea of couples. What was I left to do but drink. I’m good at drinking, right? At least I used to be. I lost count after glass #4 of Pinot Grigio. Why wine, you ask? Well, it was an open bar for wine and beer only, so of course, I chose wine over my beloved martinis. Anywho, the food was awesome. The company was okay. All was going ‘okay’ until mom got up and made some fucked up toast about ‘at least one of her daughters was able to find a good guy and provide her with grandkids’. Uhm….. I kinda hoped that I had misunderstood the undertone of the toast, but sadly, when I looked around and saw everyone around me looking at me, I knew I understood it exactly as it was stated. (have I told you lately how much I love my overly supportive and thoughtful family?)
I don’t remember much after that. I remember the yummy appetizers. And 1st course. And pasta course. I remember the entrees being placed in front of us. And that’s about it. I don’t remember the next 3 glasses of wine. I don’t remember dessert. I don’t remember doing the uber ridiculous running around declaring how much I loved everyone. Best yet? I don’t remember how I got out to the front of the restaurant. Or throwing up all over the place. Or apparently calling someone in tears to come pick me up. There seems to be a good 2 hours missing from the evening. I am the embodiment of class. With a capital ‘K’, that is.
- Just found this goodie in my drafts folder. It’s a few years old, but I can’t believe I never posted it!!