First of all, I am deeply sorry for not writing such a long time but as you might have guessed, life is a mess. The past two weeks I went through stuff and occasions that did not allow my thoughts to get rid of one inevitable question: Why do people marry?
This question does not appear in my mind because on Saturday an old friend slash frenemy married her boyfriend, her first one, actually (weird thought isn’t it?), no, I often asked this myself, because when you really think about it, mostly you only do hear about married couples that are separated and get divorced. But what about the happy couples? Those who are married for maybe thirty, forty or fifty years, without cheating on each other, of course?!
Saturday was a big day, actually S.’s big day. Her wedding day. At home my sister, my mum and I styled up and yes, we looked hot. Damn good. Actually too good for a farmer wedding. You might guess it was not in Vienna, but somewhere in a God forsaken place called Gaaden. I wouldn’t find a way back there again, to be completely true. Like usual we were absolutely on time and I can tell you something, we have been the only city people there, all the others came from the same or different one-horse-town. But at least, we looked good. People really stared at us and in the church I was about to commit suicide because three little babies (don’t ask me why they have been there, can’t remember anyway) were screaming constantly and annoyingly loud. I just sat there and hoped that god would send a heavenly gift to quiet these kids completely.
As we waited the traditional wedding choir started and one by one they walked in… the clergyman, bridesmaid after bridesmaid, maid of honor, the groomsman, the groom himself and then last but definitely not least on her big day, the bride in a – how could it be – white dress. She looked quite okay, I’d dare say, but that dress was horrible, really. Don’t get me wrong, the gown was suitable, for her, but for anyone who did not get a baby in the last months this dress could have been a tent too. Her hair was stunning. I loved this interpretation of a modern meets old-fashioned wedding hairstyle. That looked great and above all it looked like forty capsules hair spray used to fix it. Let me tell you, not a single streak went out of her row.
The ceremony was okay. Not pretty thrilling or special but ordinarily okay. When we all were in the restaurant we ate and talked to the people sitting next to us. Well at least we tried. Is it a common standard that people from the country-side are really, really dumb?
Well, I took some time off, went out to smoke a cigarette and relax a little bit. It was raining, but it eased my thoughts on why I am the only single on this wedding. I guess I have never felt so alone and useless in my entire life. Everyone was either married or engaged or a couple since years (Guess who did catch the bride’s bouquet? An engaged girl with a maximum age of twenty-two, my frenemy S. was 21, by the way). That was so unbelievably frustrating that I seemed to drink a little bit too much wine actually. After I finished my cigarette I went straight to the bride and talked to her. And I just can’t remember anything she said because of one sentence that just blew me off the hook. When I talked to her about the dress and where she bought it and you know, the really important stuff, she told me, that she is going to dye it after the wedding to wear it to several balls. My mouth just fell open and I thought someone slingshot me in another time and place where tradition isn’t worth anything. I would have never ever thought someone would do such a thing, voluntarily. I always have been of the opinion that the wedding gown is something you keep forever and for always in a box on your attic to look at it some time to remember the most beautiful day in your life.
Really, what do you think about that? I just am shocked, completely. Disturbingly, actually.
Doesn’t tradition mean anything anymore in our times? What does forever and for always mean nowadays?