Thirty Something London

Being Single at a Wedding

Single at a wedding kids table

People think that being single at a wedding is guaranteed sex and debauchery. I can tell you after my recent experience, it’s not exactly the case.

The issue with being single at a wedding is that apart from you, everybody is feeling the love. Love that seems to just float through the air like it’s being subtly pumped out by a plug-in air freshener or an old magic tree dangling from one’s rear-view mirror.

I let out a big silent groan as I realise that I am the only single person at my table. I scan the various couples that occupy the other places and wonder what I’ve gotten myself in for. Being single at a wedding definitely opens your eyes a lot more to the various situations around you. A lot more than if you were all coupled up.

The Table.

I pigeon-hole the couples straight away.

There’s the touchy feely, new couple sitting across from me. I follow every close movement of the fork as they slowly feed cake into each other’s mouths. I gag. Next we have the 28-year-old couple that have been together since they were 14 (yes, 14!) that have gone too far in their relationship to even think about turning back now. The “settlers” who married because they met each other at a stage where they both wanted kids and the love they once had for each other has started to fade away. Finally there’s that “perfect” couple, the kind that have ridden every wave to arrive at a point of perfect bliss.

Then there’s me. Single. Bitter. Given half a chance, I’d drink the wine straight from the bottle and spark up a cigarette at the table right then and there to help get me through the day. I don’t even smoke.

The Q and (lack of) A Session.

After a short while the questions start.

“So, Jordi when are you going to find someone nice?”.
“Jordi, you’re single. I know someone who you might like”. I feel like saying “I might like? Brilliant, where do I sign?”. But I don’t and continue to be interrogated.
“How old are you now, Jordi? 31? You should really be thinking about settling down”.
And my favourite, “She left you a while ago now, Jordi, didn’t she? You should really think about finding another girlfriend, a better one, I mean” (yes, someone actually said that with sincerity). Brilliant.

On the inside I roll my eyes, on the outside I have to respond as PC as possible. The easy answer is always “I will when I’m ready” (as I eye off that bottle of wine and contemplate grabbing it and disappearing outside).

The bride and groom start to parade themselves around the reception making an effort to swing past each table as so they can be  continuously showered with compliments. The girl sitting next to me gives me an elbow whilst asking “Doesn’t the bride look gorgeous?”.
I nearly choke. “Sorry?” I respond.
“The bride, don’t you think she looks beautiful?” the girl repeats.
“Oh, you were actually asking me that”, I respond. “Ummmm, pfffffff. Sure, she looks amazing”, I sarcastically answer. The girl gives me a half-smile then looks away, realising it’s best not to mention anything to do with the wedding for the rest of the evening.

As the bride and groom make it to our table all of the couples that aren’t married share that cheesy joke of who’s turn it is next. Much forced laughter is shared between them.  I don’t partake in the joke, especially when the groom puts his arm around me saying “Don’t worry, Jordi, this’ll be you one day”. I gag again. I sincerely hope not.

I go to the bar on my own. They’re only serving wine or beer. I ask for something harder. It’s fate, the barman pulls out a bottle of Cacique 500, a nice Venezuelan rum and pours both of us a shot. That helps me get through the ordeal.

I’ve made it to the end. Not before everybody heads outside for one last celebration.

There are 2 doves in a cage, that the bride and groom set free as some sort of symbol. Everybody claps and cheers. I can’t help but feel there’s a real sense of irony.
Surely it should be the other way around.
Surely the doves that were free should be shoved into a cage as a symbol of marriage.

I think it’s hilarious and tell that joke to the girl who elbowed me earlier. She gives me a half-smile and looks away again.

At least I’ve got the hour-long car ride home with her to look forward to. Brilliant.

STOP! Can you completely relate to my experience? Don’t forget to comment or share my experience via Facebook or Twitter below. Thanks, Jordi.




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Thirty Something London