My Pity Party

Last weekend I celebrated the marriage of my best friend to an absolutely amazing guy. There is nothing quite like a wedding – filled with love and friends - to make you realize how down right pathetic single life can be.

When I am in NYC - I love being single. However, once I leave the island and enter suburbia, I realize that a stacked social schedule of parties, dates, bars, concerts, and dinner parties isn’t everything. Friends outside the city are falling in love, purchasing homes, raising puppies that grow into large, lake swimming, stick catching dogs…

For two years running, I've attended every single wedding dateless... These weddings become reason enough for me to throw myself a pity-me party. Somewhere after the rehearsal dinner and before the wedding, I get depressed. Depressed to the point that I cry. I cry to whoever happens to be sitting next to me at that moment -- Be it a random wedding guest (2005) or the bride (last weekend). We're talking sobbing tears, lock yourself in the bathroom tears...

I look around at my friends and realize we’re all having a blast because we’ve known each other since college. For 10 years, these couples have been sharing every moment of their lives together. (I know these all are not good moments, but still they are SHARED.) In these 10 years:

-- I’ve ended two long-term relationships. One resulted in a broken heart. The other a kick-him-to-the-curb-debacle
-- Had 10-12 one-night stands or casual relationships
-- Endured 364 sexless days

I tell myself I’m making the most of my late 20’s – but I’m starting to feel that I’m missing out on a party that everyone else has tickets to. I hate missing a good party…

Anyway, there is nothing like a friend’s wedding to toss a single gal into a depressing cycle of self-doubt and cynicism. That said, I am on my way home to find my way into the bottom of a bottle of Rioja. Self-medication is in order.