The Masochism of Attending a Wedding Alone

Is there any greater form of masochism than for a single thirty-something woman to attend a wedding alone?

I went to a wedding this weekend. The couple in question were each other's first marriage having decided to wait for the right one, the perfect match, the one they knew was the best choice and not the settled-for mate. That being the case, the bride was 41 and the groom 51.

The wedding itself was beautiful and very touching. Everyone was so overwhelmed with joy and love that there wasn't a dry eye in the place, self included. But I couldn't help but wonder, will I be over 40 before I get married too? The minister made a few cracks about thinking the bride would never get married, as if she'd never find someone who would have her instead of the other way around. If I don't get married until I'm 40 will the officiator make cracks at my expense too? Granted he made cracks about the groom too. But the comments about the groom warranted chuckles. The comments about the bride caused worried nods of agreement. A man who waits has chosen to stay boyish longer, and isn't it swell he's finally decided to grow up a little. A woman who waits has failed at catching a spouse. There's no way she'd voluntarily wait. It's out of everyone's realm of possibility.

A part of me wants to be optimistic; wants to use this couple as an example that it is never too late to find love. It can happen to anybody at any stage in life. But a part of me is really depressed about finding love later in life. I'll be the bride no one thought would get married. I'll be the "oh finally, we can stop worrying about her" bride. And if I ever have a child, it's too late for me to be the cool, young mom.

I'm the one responsible for introducing the bride and groom to each other, and as such was something of a wedding reception celebrity. Everyone knew who I was and everyone applauded me when I was pointed out during the toast. And I truly was ecstatic for the couple. But it was bittersweet, for there I sat, alone. I didn't even get to dance, my favorite thing in the world to do, at the reception for lack of a partner and no one asking. I've never been in a room filled with so much happiness and love while feeling so utterly alone in my life.

I'm still pretty shaken by the whole experience. I think I'm just tired of waiting. How long can you wait for love? Or, more importantly, how long can you keep yourself hopeful while you wait? Another ten years seems terribly daunting. Of course waiting ten years is better than twenty.

And why. actually, should any of this matter? What forces outside of myself have brainwashed me into thinking I've failed at being a female because I'm over 30 and have not landed a husband? Day to day I have a pretty good life. I know I'm a good person. So why does life seem so empty now? It's because I was witnessed this weekend to seeing how much fuller it has the potential to be.