Wedding season. Again. I didn’t think much about it a few years back, attending those I felt obligated to go to, staring at the overly made up ladies and the men stuffed in suits two sizes too small with buttons begging for mercy, eating cake with too much chewy white fondant. Nowadays, it’s my friends getting married, exchanging vows to stay together for the rest of their lives, promising to care for each other for as long as their hearts keep beating, and it makes me smile, happy to see souls uniting, dreaming of all days to come. Except, I feel a slight pang with every smile I draw, it hurts a bit watching it all from the sidelines, the way I never imagined it would.
I’m the type who likes to run free, the kind of person you can’t restrain, whether behind a desk or with words; yet I can’t help myself from wanting something that lasts through the movement, another soul to keep mine from getting lonely. Unlike what is so often understood, freedom isn’t a solo endeavour, one can be wild and free as a unit, the way my parents were, are, and will stay. They have proved to me that “together” is a beautiful world, “together” is an unmatched experience for it’s not one laugh echoing in the forest, it’s not one voice singing along to cheesy roadtrip songs, it’s not one heart beating faster with excitement as new discoveries are made, there is another, and it only makes the first one beat stronger, longer.
This isn’t another “I need a man in my life, I don’t want to end up with 72 cats and a tupperware collection” rant or sob story. Firstly because I’m allergic to cats and I already have quite a nice tupperware collection, secondly because I don’t believe I need someone else to complete me, help me or hold my hand. I can guide myself through this mess of a life, I can stay on my own completely satisfied, but no matter how complete I feel by myself, it is rather beautiful to witness two wholes make a mesmerizingly symbiotic new whole, together.
I don’t talk about it much, this little folly of my imagination, the one that makes me dream up my own wedding, my own quirky version of two hearts intertwining as medieval music plays in the middle of nowhere, wind gently caressing the faces of the few beloved guests; I don’t understand extravagance, being surrounded by people I barely know or will barely notice on the day my life finds itself overturned and shaken by a crazy fantasy made real. I often dream up that day where I too step into this togetherness I still haven’t tried, this adventure seemingly as mind-boggling as those I regularly plan out, and as I watch others begin their journey on this not so lonely path, I sigh; I too would like a taste of union, to someday be two instead of my eternal “one”… but that’s for another day; today I fly by myself, my own groom. One ticket please!