loveless, my loveless love
i’ve never been good at maths, but even i know that going to a wedding minus your plus one equals sadness.
i have been invited to a wedding next saturday. not just any wedding, but m’s wedding. after much thinking and pondering, i’ve come to the conclusion that the only con would be our history but as it is well into the past, why not going? i already have the dress - a soft layer of red chiffon. i already have the shoes - strappy 10 inches heels. i already have the accessoires - a red and silver clutch, a swarowski headband and silver hoops. i already have a cabinet full of pills to cure the hangover. i’ve already cried all my tears and now i’m ready to wish them well.
i like weddings as long as i’m not there on my own. they sit single people at the table at the far end of the room, where all the losers sit. being single at a wedding is like being punished for a crime you didn’t commit. a.’s going to be my plus one. a tall, handsome, nice, well-dressed man by my side.
last week, in a bid of niceness, me and ethan had dinner with evan and his stupid girlfriend. they - already an “us” by all means - dissected and judged my and ethan’s love life. they think our relationships are lived on an edge - an edge we’re both going to fall off. they think that a. pretends to care about me just to bed me and that i - once again - will find myself alone. they think that ethan’s never going to find the one, because he just cares for pretty and sexy. we - and yes, even tho me and ethan are just friends, we’re also an “us” - think that being in a relationship doesn’t give you the right to be assholes.
anyway, a. offered to come to the wedding with me. evan and his girlfriend are going to be there too and they’re going to realize that me and a. are crazy about each other. i mean, we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, but it’s not all about the sex. just because we have fun when we’re together, doesn’t make us less serious than people who call themselves a couple and talk in “us” and “we” and hold hands.
i have been invited to a wedding next saturday. not just any wedding, but m’s wedding. after much thinking and pondering, i’ve come to the conclusion that the only con would be our history but as it is well into the past, why not going? i already have the dress - a soft layer of red chiffon. i already have the shoes - strappy 10 inches heels. i already have the accessoires - a red and silver clutch, a swarowski headband and silver hoops. i already have a cabinet full of pills to cure the hangover. i’ve already cried all my tears and now i’m ready to wish them well.
i like weddings as long as i’m not there on my own. they sit single people at the table at the far end of the room, where all the losers sit. being single at a wedding is like being punished for a crime you didn’t commit. a.’s going to be my plus one. a tall, handsome, nice, well-dressed man by my side.
last week, in a bid of niceness, me and ethan had dinner with evan and his stupid girlfriend. they - already an “us” by all means - dissected and judged my and ethan’s love life. they think our relationships are lived on an edge - an edge we’re both going to fall off. they think that a. pretends to care about me just to bed me and that i - once again - will find myself alone. they think that ethan’s never going to find the one, because he just cares for pretty and sexy. we - and yes, even tho me and ethan are just friends, we’re also an “us” - think that being in a relationship doesn’t give you the right to be assholes.
anyway, a. offered to come to the wedding with me. evan and his girlfriend are going to be there too and they’re going to realize that me and a. are crazy about each other. i mean, we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, but it’s not all about the sex. just because we have fun when we’re together, doesn’t make us less serious than people who call themselves a couple and talk in “us” and “we” and hold hands.