I hate it when taxi drivers talk too much. Last year I had the misfortune to be trapped in a taxi driven by a really pompous middle aged man. He started off as soon as I sat down, droning on about his daughter’s wedding and how much money he’d spent on a dress, chocolate fountain and all that crap that people seem to need. I half listened and after ten minutes of the boring old twat boasting on I said: “Well, its worth all that money though isn’t it? A wedding is something your daughter will only have two or three times in her life.”
He wasn’t impressed at my unromantic, but realistic sentiments but it got the end result of him shutting up so all was fine. I’m sorry if this disappoints or offends anyone, but I probably won’t be coming to your wedding even if you invite me. You certainly won’t be coming to mine. I definitely won’t be coming if it’s a church wedding. I really don’t like the places and think they make great bars or apartment conversions.
Lots of my female friends are impressed by the idea of a gay wedding. I’m not. They like the idea of the novelty of two men getting “married” and think it would be cute and camp. I often get people urging me to get married. It’s not happening, well at least not until I have a list of white goods that I need long enough to make the wedding list worth a few thousand. It’s just not me. I like a bit of attention but there are limits. Weddings are often so naff. I just couldn’t face all that planning, forcing people to stand about being as bored as I generally am at weddings and having to proclaim slush in front of people. It’s not my thing. The whole religious element puts me off too. Even a non religious wedding is, in my view, aping an unnecessary religious ritual.
Planning weddings involves rows, breaches of etiquette and lots of cash. I’m not overly keen on dancing to “Come on Eileen” or finger buffets and I think cummerbunds are just stupid. No one looks good in morning suits and as for the ubiquitous kilt wearing just because your gran once stood next to a man from Kilmarnock in Tesco. Forget it. Knowing my luck I’d plan a wedding and end up with a corking migraine that day and a lot of money down the drain.
A hotel near me advertises a “Wedding in a Box” at £5000 all in. £5000! That’s a lot of money for a day. You could go on a few nice holidays with that or buy a hell of a lot of good books or theatre tickets.
I hate attending weddings. Mawkish children dressed like junior hookers, tedious long Eskimo love poems read out with a crocodile tear and standing waiting whilst you spend an hour posing for stagey soft focus photos of something which has barely happened yet? I think I can safely resist that. I’m never sorry to miss the best man’s speech in which he details jolly japes about the time you got a hand job in Amsterdam. I’m never sad to miss the sight of the fat uncle dancing with the small child either. I’m happier at home with a good book.
As a child of seven I was reprimanded sharply at a family wedding when I was caught reading a copy of “The Borrowers” during an especially dull service. Is dull church service an oxymoron? Propping the novel inside a hymn book failed to avoid my parents’ beady eyes. They knew me well. I do hate to be cooped up and bored.
If I did get hitched it’d be for convenience e.g. to ensure someone got my pension or to get a hot Brazilian a British passport. It would be done discretely in a registry office with a nice lunch afterwards. I might even splash out and not plump for the Harvester Lunch Deal, although the salad bar is very tempting.
It’s not that I’m unromantic. I’m definitely very romantic. I believe love is a chemical malfunction/mental illness and it can be very nice thank you. How much more romance is there than that? I don’t need an outdated medieval ritual to proclaim my madness to the world. I can do it on Facebook. Let’s face it, experience has shown me that men are quite likely to abandon you without warning, smack you round the head with a Christmas tree, drink all your money away or diddle your mates behind your back. There isn’t a pledge in the world, written or spoken before some imaginary deity or council official that will stop that. It’s the luck of the draw.
In the modern age believing that you’re going to be with someone for the rest of your life is sweet but probably not that realistic. The biggest commitment these days is surely impregnation or buying a house. Having a baby means you’ll have to see the twat forever more (or at least till the kid is 20 or so) and buying a house together is a bugger to wriggle out of legally. Divorce is cheaper and more final.
Feel free to invite me to any weddings. At a push I’ll come to the do after as long as the buffet is good quality and no one plays Dexy’s Midnight Runners but the answer is probably likely to be my stock one: I’m afraid I’m too busy, I’ll come to the next one.