Because I Believe
Last night I had a wedding to attend. Yesterday afternoon, I started writing a post complaining about how I like weddings less each time I go to one. Yada yada I fell asleep and woke up just in time to drive to the wedding out in the suburbs.
I knew two people in the entire three-hundred person wedding, who were the bride (my newest friend, Favorite Coworker) and maid-of-honor, which of course meant they would be too busy to talk much throughout the evening. Although I had invited my friend Sweetie Pie to attend so I wouldn’t be lonely, she came down with a nasty cold and had to stay home. Great, I thought to myself as I drove to the church. I didn’t want to go to a wedding in the first place, and now I have to go to a wedding where I have no one to talk to for five hours. I hate weddings.
The wedding was a bit on the country side (big hair and Southern accents as far as the ear could hear), which meant I stuck out like a slutty city girl. The pastor had eyed me suspiciously as I walked toward the door. Was it the spaghetti-strap dress or could he tell that a non-believer was entering the house of god? It took all my self-control to keep from rolling my eyes at him and hissing Hey, be happy I didn’t show up NAKED, asshole. I hate weddings.
