Sunday, 7 February 2010

Not Getting Married.

Image courtesy of The Guardian.

Suddenly everywhere I look, everywhere I turn someone is getting married or getting engaged. When did this happen? When did it become fashionable to kid yourself on that you might actually stay attached to the same person for the rest of your life, when you are in your mid twenties and there are so many things left do? I know people used to get married back in olden times and forever meant forever, but those were dark days before the internet, reality telly and Katie and Peter and you probably died at 40 anyway so mid 20's was pretty old. The idea that in our generation where the sense of entitlement and choice are realised in x-factor phone votes, reshuffling your ipod play lists and updating your Twitter, might extend to the momentous decision to marry someone -FOR LIFE- is as ridiculous as Katie Price's recent nuptials to everyone's new favourite numpty Alex Reid.

And yet despite the less than savoury marital experience of the beautiful Cheryl Cole and her musical wedding ring act, will she or won't she be wearing it this week? my peers have never been keener to follow suit and walk up the one-way isle of 'happy ever after'. Hell, I even know someone who is counting down the days to their big day via their Facebook status. Don't stop there I say, why not just have a live video link up to the event itself or post your wedding video on Youtube?

But why all the fuss? Like I said earlier, and at the risk of a repetitiveness similar to the marital state, there are so many things left to do. I have goals but they don't involve playing the princess for the day. I don't want to wear a tiara and I have a ferocious aversion to anything chiffon. Perhaps this puts me at a head start. I've already decided I don't like the pomp and ceremony attached to the ever after pantomime. And honestly that's what it feels like. Marriage has become theatre, an act which is performed rather than lived. I doubt at 25 years old you can possibly envisage your life hence forth as one half of a married couple and all that this entails, but you can imagine the day, the single day when you make that decision in front of your family and peers, as though it were a court ... judgement .... last rites ............................ Sorry I had to stop there and vomit in the nearest waste paper bin. See I told you I have an aversion. Its an illness - pre-marital bulimia.

At this point you'd be perfectly within your rights to ask, well what the hell does this have to do with me? You're just bitter, you might say, no one wants to marry you, you'll die alone, a spinster, with Alsatians nibbling at your toes. Maybe. But perhaps not. Maybe I'll have a long term relationship or I won't, such things are in the lap of the gods. What I do know is that I'll have plenty of free time for myself. I can lie in bed all day on a Saturday and read novels, and books about cocktails, philosophy and life just because I can. I can stay up late and drink too much wine with my girlfriends, recounting tales of foreign adventures and ex-religious fundamentalist boyfriends, thanking our stars that we didn't marry them, not concerned that my other half might think I've been abducted or likewise not sat at home wondering where he is. Off the top of my head these are pretty standard alternatives, there's a world of single fun to be had. For instance, tomorrow I'm going to make Millionaire Shortbread.

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