The lights lift, a gaggle of tulle clad females smelling of hairspray, fake tan and spring flowers huddles in anticipation. Each lady's eyes flick between her nervous looking boyfriend and the bride: the stunner, standing barefoot ahead of them, shifting from side to side like a tennis player about to serve.
And then time slows. A bunch of pink peonies sail through the air in the direction of the beautiful clan. At which time, women are bent over in short dresses clambering for the golden ticket.
I am smack in the middle of wedding season at the moment, and while I am all for the romance, the fuzzy champagne chatter, the canapés and the funny best man speeches, catching the bouquet is one tradition I hide from. Literally hide. Suddenly need to pee; ate a dodgy oyster; had to make an urgent call; must freshen my drink. Hide.
Come on ladies! Being an unmarried woman at a wedding can be dangerous enough. We have a greater chance of dancing with handsy Uncle Tom. We often get stuck at the singles table with a whole lot of people we don’t know (where quality chat is luck of the draw). There is no partner to rescue us from that terribly awkward conversation. That one where we accidentally say fuck-stick in front of your Aunty Mae.
So for the love of table settings and recycled one-liners, please don’t grab my hand and drag me out into the middle of the room. Please don’t ask me to stand in front of all the guests and gag for a chance to wear the white dress and say I do.
Unless…you are willing to shout me an entire bottle of good champagne first…
Then, all bets are off.
Much love XX
