Look out!

Look out. It’s coming. Picking up the sky tv guide and seeing Prince Willy’s gormless grin and Katie’s bridal pose sent me reeling. Within minutes I was itching all over and was having difficulty breathing. I threw the offending image across the room but to no avail. Weddingness emanated from beneath the sofa. Must burn image!! I muttered as I staggered about looking for matches. The seven year old offered me her asthma inhaler and to call the ambulance and I noted abstractly to self that it might not necessarily be a good thing that the most mature person in the household is only 7. “Are you allergic?” she asked. As a matter of fact I am. I suffer from gamophobia. I’m scared, perplexed and generally allergic to marriage.
Specifically: other people’s weddings, in particular royal ones.

I’m scared of weddings in the way that other people are afraid of clowns or Rodney Hide. Which is why I’m in love with Richie McCaw. He must be the only sane person in the world who actually turned down an invite to the big rubber stamp of official approval of the bedroom behaviour of Prince Willy and his not so royal consort. Richie had better things to do – and I get that.

I just don’t get weddings. I’m officially banned from ever being a bridesmaid again amongst my friends. This could be because instead of a back up make up kit, I’d organised a getaway car for the back of the church. Just in case. In fairness to my intuition that she was possibly about to make a huge mistake, she did a runner not much later with a girl on a Harley. Didn’t see that coming. I’d witnessed the full on meringue – the huge ring and the flower detailed Cinderella shoes - it was as if the person I had always known had been possessed by a wedding daemon. There is photographic evidence of me in full green meringue (groom’s idea) with a number one skinhead hairdo holding a bouquet of roses like a Westie girl holds a broken beer bottle. I can testify that it is not a good look. And it’s not just me.

Weddings do strange things to people – I have to agree with Bob Jones on this one: weddings make people lose any sense of taste or good sense. Otherwise normal people decide that pearls and a crown is a good look. Wedding cakes are defaced if not up to fashion standards. People have domestics over too much champagne and not enough to eat and the best man ends up bonking the bride. Or is that just my friends’ weddings? One of the funniest phone calls I’ve ever received was finding out about a close friend’s wedding while away in Argentina. She rang to say she was getting divorced: ‘But I didn’t know you were married!!’ I said shocked. “When did that happen?!” “Well I’d been told I only had a few months to live so I went and did the full wedding bridesmaid dress thing… you know.. every girl has got to do it.” I didn’t but I murmured something vaguely assenting. “And so, what happened? Why didn’t it work out?” I asked, scared of the answer… “Well, you know…’ she said in her laid back laconic fashion ‘ I got married because I thought I was going to die… and then I woke up one morning and he was watching videos and drinking beer and I thought: “Oh. My. God. What if I live?!!! So I left him.” The divorce – not the wedding was her affirmation of life. And to this day – that is the best wedding I’ve never been to.

In order to survive the next few sick-making weeks of royal wedding mania I know I will develop optophobia. This is when the world becomes just too weird that you are too scared to even open your eyes. Wake me when it’s over.

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