Due to the people around me, my face is close to permanently looking like this.
So…I don’t get offended very easily, but I suppose I’m due every couple of years. I received Harry’s wedding invitation in the mail the other day. It was not a surprise to me; I knew he was engaged. When he told me about the impending nuptials he said, “You can bring a date, if you can find somebody.”
Ha, ha, ha, I get it. It’s fun to rib me about the difficulty I have in the dating world and all the horrible dates that I do manage to go on. It’s even more hilarious because it makes no sense why it’s hard for me, especially since I’m not a dumb, small breasted, troll. Harry doesn’t understand how I’m single, nor does anyone else.
My Grandma, a former model who’s been married a few times and never had any problems dating, is convinced the reason I don’t get asked out is because all the men in LA are gay…out of the closet or not, all of them. My Mom, perfection in human form (just ask her), has never had to ask a guy out, or been rejected and certainly not dumped. Therefore, she’s unable to dole out advice to the Marty Feldman-esque freak show she produced. When I talk to her about dating, she looks at me like a dog hearing something confusing.
Clearly, Harry knows I’ll show up to this thing SOLO. And I particularly enjoyed his ever so slow, twisting of the knife when I opened the invite. He took it upon himself to fill it out for me, stating TWO people would be coming.
Is he taking some sick joy in me having to X out the TWO that he so carefully took the time to write in, just so I have to replace it with a sad little ONE? It’s not like I want to go alone but he’s not trying to help me out either. He straight up told me he’s not even inviting any attractive guys. Seriously?
99% of the time, I can go anywhere alone and really don’t mind being single (which is probably part of the problem) but this instance is the 1%. I also hate having a problem where I need someone else’s help. I’m not used to the damsel in distress role— it feels weird.
A few people told me to bring Roger, but you know what’s more sad than going to your best friend’s wedding alone? Going with your gay BFF. I might as well go in a Muumuu covered in Cheese It crumbs and bring my cat with me. Another option was to get the hot actor guy from my writing group to go with me and “act” like he’s my boyfriend. This guy is in the new Twilight movie. Let’s face it, he’s prettier than me.
Sure, nothing would give me more pleasure than showing up with somebody, just so I could tell Harry to “suck it.” (And I totally would, even on his wedding day.) But, getting someone to “pretend” to be my date seems like it’s a horrible idea for a movie (because it was one, ‘The Wedding Date.’ It’s craptastic and you can catch it on TBS, probably right now.)
If I could fake it with some dude, I’d go big, so I could make it a legendary story. Prince Harry’s single and has been to a few weddings recently. But, he also likes the hooch and I don’t want to end up babysitting at the end of the night. Who else? Well, of course, if there were a, smart, wise assed guy who would like to join a, how did his friends every so eloquently put it? Ah, yes, “young chick with big titties,” I would be beyond stoked. Especially if he had a sweet Brooklyn accent.
Hey, I heard that, you judgmental pessimist! Let the cold, bat cave I call my heart be positive for once. Dreams can come true…says the company I work for. Anyway, I’ve got three months to figure something out.
