I was at a lunch today where the topic of discussion was weddings. For well over an hour. Funny anecdotes, serious narratives, and everything else in between. I can’t tell you how the discussion started. I honestly don’t remember, at all. I just know that it started and then seemingly, never ended. A never-ending diatribe on matrimony.
I like weddings. I do. I believe in ever lasting love. I am a romantic. I’ve had many a good time at many a nuptial celebration. I still don’t want to talk about fucking weddings for over an hour. Really. I’d rather have my eyes spooned out.
I had to take a step back and ask myself if my aversion comes from my single status. Am I just bitter? Am I lonely? Do I resent people who have found true love? No. None of the above. Truly. I’m actually in a weird phase right now where I’m trying to figure out what I even want. I’m making very, very little effort to meet someone which tells me that I am resistant to the idea. I don’t think I’m afraid, though fear is a definite possibility. I am hesitant, for sure. I am most definitely eyes wide open. The thing is, I’m not sad. Really. Sure, I occasionally have a moment, but for the most part, my life feels full. In fact, there are times where I wonder how I would fit someone in. That pondering doesn’t feel stressful. To the contrary, it feels healthy. I didn’t used to ask such questions.
Anyway, I digress.
I don’t have a deep-seated bias when it comes to avoiding marriage. At all.
I suppose it was two factors. One, I realized that a co-worker of many years had shared this news with our intern and decided NOT to share it with me. I could tell you that I don’t give a shit about such things, but that would be a lie. I wasn’t deeply wounded, but it did sting. It didn’t bother me because we are so tight, but more so, because that fact inherently highlights a disconnect. We have worked together for several years but there was still enough space between us (figuratively) to fit in a life highlight, and a significant one at that. It was not even a blip on the radar.
He did have the sense to look a little embarrassed when the intern unknowingly outed him, but it was too late. Information had been shared and there was no recounting or rescinding it. Again, it is his news to share and I don’t believe in guilting people into sharing their personal business, as G-d knows I’m private, but the messaging was pretty clear there. You don’t matter. And I suppose that makes sense, but with the amount of time we spend at work, it still feels icky.
I suppose if the moment had passed and that was the end of it all, I would have been okay. Not that I was wrecked or devastated, but I don’t think I would have dwelled, at all. It would have been a one and done sort of scenario. But then, the aforementioned discussion on weddings commenced. What was staggering to me was that my co-workers know I’m not married (who cares, right?) but also, neither is our intern. The fucking lunch was FOR OUR INTERN. What in the actual fuck?
I didn’t even know how to right the ship. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. I wanted to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. Had there been some sort of Star Trek phase out option (beam me up, Scotty) or a time travel worm hole available, I would have jumped into the opportunity with two feet. Immediately, without question. There was no out though and I felt paralyzed. Literally. I felt like someone glued me to the seat and I had to just sit there, and keep a pleasant face on, and pretend like I gave a fuck about what they were talking about. I didn’t, care.
I’ve been to many, many weddings in my forty years. I have stories. Outrageous ones. Drunken speeches, torrid love affairs in the bathroom, stolen cards. You name it, I’ve likely experienced it. Still, I didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know exactly why, other than I am probably more interested in literally anything else on the planet. Really. I probably would have talked about slugs mating and felt far more jazzed than I did at that lunch.
So, there I sat, wedding chat all around me, frozen. Miserable. Resentful. Those weren’t the worst of my emotions though. Not even close. I feel like you might be surprised when I share the most profound emotion I experienced. Are you ready? I was sad. I felt so fucking left out. Not left out because I haven’t gotten married, but left out because I was surrounded by people who didn’t give a shit if I was involved in the conversation, at all. I literally did not partake AT ALL in the discussion, and it was unnoticed or unimportant enough not to warrant a shift.
I think you know me enough by now to know that I’m not saying the conversation or the topic of conversation should revolve around me. Quite to the contrary. I just don’t totally or fully understand how me being outside of the chat was a non-issue. I felt left out. I felt out of place. I felt like a strange woman in a strange land. I felt like I didn’t belong, at all. I actually started to regret attending, which is crazy. I’m usually the human that can find the silver lining when it comes to these things. The food. Some of the company. The change in scenery. Nope. Nada. Just a stunning reminder that I’ve outgrown something without even realizing it. Somehow, the landscape shifted around me and I didn’t notice until one day, I looked around and everything seemed foreign. Unrecognizable. Uncomfortable.
So, what now? I don’t know. I need to sort something out though. I need to figure out how to cope. I need to figure out how to feel like a stranger and disconnect and not internalize. I’m not sure what that looks like. I’m not sure how to do that. I suppose identification is the first step, right? I always say that so now you know I mean it. I feel out of place. Big time. What now?
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