The Marrying Type

I used to wonder if it would ever happen. Like most little girls, the weddings that I went to seemed like a dream. You get to buy a fancy dress, everyone's eyes are on you, and they all ooh and ahh about how gorgeous you look. They look at you, and whisper to their neighbors.

Everyone is buzzing. They talk about how the bride is glowing, how she looks so happy. They cry, out of pure joy, for the couple. Everyone just knows that it is a beautiful thing.

I think that's what I wanted for myself. That's why I used to dream about it. It wasn't the being married part of a wedding that I really wanted, it was the "so happy" - the enourmous joy that was felt, so big that everyone around could practically smell it in the air. That's what I was dreaming about. Being just that happy.

That and being the center of attention.

I never really thought that it would happen for me. I knew, deep down, that I would always be happy. I knew that, no matter what, I'd make myself happy. And I have been. I've had a good life, and I've had a good time having that life. I know that is enough for me.

I can go to a wedding now, without the intense longing that I used to feel. I don't have that overriding urge anymore, to take the place of the bride. I am happy, yes, for the couple. Now, though, it's not a jealous happy. I am happy. I was at the point where I'd happily accepted that I might never have a day of celebration, announcing to everyone I've ever known that I had become happy.

It was better that way, because I did it on my own.

[Enter Bruce]

All of a sudden, I'm 16 again, doodling in notebooks about how I want my dress to look. I'm daydreaming about buttercream icing. The nice thing is, I know that I'm not the only one reading this blog, who's doing it. Even more sweet, I know that I'm not the only one in this relationship doing it.

Just wait a few weeks, and I'll have proof.