With age comes wedding committees. Now there’s a valuable adage my mother forgot to tell me. This could prove to be problematic, seeing as I don’t particularly enjoy weddings. I mean, yeah, the dancing is cool, and maybe the groomsmen will be cute, but it’s just really tiring at the end of the day. Kinda like a funeral. Sorry. (In my defense, in the olden days, black was worn to weddings and white to funerals. There must have been a reason, right? One saying you poor sucker and the other you lucky bugger. Go figure.)
The reasons I don’t like weddings vary in their intensity and depth. I’ll try not to write a novel. First off – why get married? Half of the people who get married nowadays don’t know why they do it, and hence nothing changes after the fact. He still has his clandes, she’s still clubbing till 4 with the girls on Bendover Thursdays, so what’s the point? It appears to me that especially the concept of fidelity seems an alien one to Kenyans. Don’t get it twisted, though. Some still carry the torch. It’s burning bright. Gives the rest of y’all hope.
Second, the expense. Call me miserly if you will, but it simply baffles me. Why the heavens would I spend so much on a single day to impress a bunch of my mother’s friends? It defeats logic and cents- uh, sense. Go to the AG’s office. That’s what he’s there for. Avoidance of relatives. Or even better: a come-we-risk – erm, come-we-stay for 2 years (is it 2 years now?) and you’ll be legally recognized as a married couple. Easy-peasy. Pop a bottle at the digz.
As perhaps an appendix of (2), why would you spend so much money if you clearly can’t afford it? Oh, you claim you can? No. Having a harambee for your wedding means you can’t afford your wedding – but you and your friends, and your church members and chama-buddies and distant relatives can. Just saying.
Have I already mentioned unwanted relatives? Ok, I’m doing it again. Aunties and uncles who ALL changed your diapers are in attendance to remind you over…and over…and over again. I’m beginning to think it’s something people just say, like ‘I was always number 1 in class!’
Now I get personal. Ok, I lie, it was personal before. I’m a bridesmaid in my cousin’s wedding. I’m being a bit ridiculous about it, because I’m not exactly a wedding enthusiast. I’m forced acquaintances with him, by virtue of our shared ancestries. I didn’t know the bride’s name until the first wedding committee meeting (the first one I attended, anyway) and I haven’t attended another one since. To be fair, there are so many other things I’d rather be doing on a Sunday afternoon. Like…Chess Sunday. Or Open Mic. Neighbors Omnibus. Meditation. Reminiscing over my lecture notes. Crafting my 10-year financial plan. That sort of urgent and awfully important thing.
Anyhue, the point is…I think they’re going to make me don make-up and heels. There’s nothing that makes my skin crawl like that combination. (There probably is, but exaggeration is an art I like to employ in my writing) I wonder if I can say no? Or just not show up?…if I set the cake on fire, they won’t notice that I’m not in the pictures, right?