Always a bridesmaid...

So I was having drinks with a friend the other night and we were talking about marriage. Well, weddings, really. And we were discussing the cutthroat competition there is to stand up in weddings.

Not for the men.

Men are just like, "Dude. BACHELOR PARTY."

They don't care about being in the wedding.

They just want to drink in support of the wedding.

I'm not talking about them.

I'm talking women here.

How many is she going to have? Who's she going to ask? She's making us wear what?

People assume that everyone wants to be in their wedding. And probably, most do.

But honestly, I'm not one of them.

I'm actually considering not making friends with single people anymore.

Because. I. Don't. Want. To. Be. In. Your. Wedding.

I'm way too old to wear a $300 black/brown/periwinkle/midnight blue/or peach dress and stand next to 12 other women in the same $300 black/brown/periwinkle/midnight blue/or peach dress.

Sure, I'll attend your wedding.

I'll eat the free food.

Drink the free drinks (I pass on cash bars, but best wishes anyway).

Dance awkwardly to the free music.

I'll even give you cash, so you don't have to jack around with a check before you take off on your Hawaiian honeymoon.

But please. Please don't ask me to stand up for you.

I'm really not your girl.

I barely like running errands for myself, let alone some psychotic bridezilla. So I'd definitely disappoint.

I was a pretty laid back bride—seriously, ask any of my bridesmaids—and I pretty much just told them when to show up.

But most aren't like me.

Most are bridezillas.

And so my friend and I were talking and something occurred to me:

Even though I don't want to be in your wedding, I want to be asked to be in your wedding (which, unfortunately, means I'd most likely be in it).

I want to be one of the Chosen Ones.

The Ones that are looked at by the attendees as the "closest friends of the bride."

The Ones that tramp around the wedding (no pun intended, I'm a married woman), as a gang, joined together by their ill-fitting dresses and their matching shoes.

Because when you're not in a wedding, you kind of look at the bridal party as...royalty.

They float throughout the room, entertaining, hosting, garnering stares from everyone else.

[Wait, there's a flash of fuchsia! Yes, that was One of Them. Excitement ripples throughout the room.]

They are holding court, and we, the Unchosen, are simply looking at them. Through a window.

They dance around, lounge about, carry their shoes.

The Untouchables.

And who doesn't love that feeling?

And these girls are nothing special.

Without the shimmering piece of bright cloth that only looks good on 2/3 of them, they are just like us.

They put their pants on one leg at a time. Just like us.

But for that one night...we all want a little piece of that magic.

Now I know this sounds hypocritical.

But I want my wedding cake and I want to eat it, too.

I do have some single friends that will eventually take that marital leap.

And as much as I will inwardly roll my eyes when and if I'm asked to be a part of the whole thing, I will inevitably smile, and nod my head yes.

Because I know I will be transformed that night. In my own head (see the title of this blog).

I'll know that the bride will just be a sidekick to my performance that night.

All eyes will be on me. And my gang of colorful cohorts.

So go ahead. Ask me to be in your wedding.

Trust me. I'll say yes.

Girls suck.

There, I said it.

And you know I'm right.

I've come to this conclusion after extensive, legitimate research.

I've observed, noted and come up with my findings:

Girls just suck.

To be fair, I've never been a girls' girl.

I've always despised "Girls Night Out". (This always feels too forced—like declaring it is really going to make a difference? Now Guys' Night? I'm all about that.)

Don't even get me started on baby showers and wedding showers and bachelorette parties. I'm getting tense just thinking about it.

All that giggling. And pink (see previous post).

I can't take it.

I would always rather hang with the guys, than deal with the girls.

I know what I'm talking about.

As you can imagine, I've had extensive exposure to both.

I've lived with both.

I've fought with both.

And I know I'm right.

This opinion has roots that date back to my grade school days.

Two girls? Great.

Four girls? No problem.

THREE girls? Not so much.

There is something in women—and even young girls—that senses the competition. Senses that we should be out to destroy each other, instead of support one another. When the numbers are odd and someone isn't "partnered" up, there's going to be a huge problem. Someone is going down.

We were horrible to one another, even way back then.

If one girl's jeans were Palmetto (ick), instead of Guess...well...she shouldn't have bothered coming to school.

Then in college, I lived with both women and men. And I can tell you, women are C.R.A.Z.Y.

With guys, if they weren't doing their dishes, I said, "Do your fucking dishes or I'll break your fucking legs."

Done.

With women, it turned into, "You've always hated me and I know you were jealous of my birthday party and my boyfriend and you just don't understand that my parents are going through a divorce and I'm going to throw a bar stool at you now." (true story—her "boyfriend" stole my credit card and our other roommate's car and drove to Kansas.)

Why is it so complicated?

For all the feminist movement has done for us, it seems we haven't gotten that far.

Sure we can vote, which is nice (although voting in primaries is always a struggle for me).

And I like being able to have a job (mixed feelings on this, really).

But when it comes down to it, we really don't have each other's backs, do we? Why is that?

There's something intrinsic in most women that won't let us view one another as anything less than competition.

It's the rip-on-her-so-I-feel-better-about-myself mentality.

I'm guilty of it. We all are.

This has always been my experience. That girls suck.

However.

My tried and true rule about girls sucking has been tested in the past few years.

There are a handful of women that I actually like to spend time with. There's no bullshit. No insecurity involved.

And then there's my group of dinner girls.

Oh, the dinner girls.

They've kind of turned my long-held belief on its head.

There are five of us total, and for the last five years, we've been meeting for dinner at least once a month (December was different because it was four of our birthdays and my birthday actually lasts a month so we met several times).

These dinners...are hilarious.

It's like we leave all that baggage, that pre-judgement and competition at the hostess stand.

I don't stop laughing until it's over.

We talk about anything and everything and eat and drink (maybe that's it?) for hours. And it's nothing short of fun. Every time.

I don't know what it is with these girls.

They're each crazy and messed up, don't get me wrong. I haven't discovered some rare species of women. But somehow...somehow, it just works.

We click.

There's a chemistry there that I haven't felt with many women.

Maybe because I know, without a doubt, that if I show up to dinner with a huge pimple on my face, I don't have to worry about whether someone will bring it up.

Because I know one of them will.

So maybe it's that, when we're together, we're like guys.

Giving each other shit.

Ragging mercilessly on one another (but mostly just KimPossible).

I honestly don't know what it is.

Some of my other friends have actually said, "You're going to hang out with all women?"

I know. It's a shock to me, too.

But I look forward to these dinners in a way I never would have before.

Is it because I'm getting older and choosing friends who don't bother with that nonsense?

Nah.

I think it's just these girls.

So I guess all women don't suck.

Maybe all women aren't crazy competitive and mean.

Or maybe I just have good taste.

Because of course, I'm way smarter and better-looking than them.