By Aina Cruz
“I’m getting married!” These days, I have been hearing more frequently from my friends and cousins this dreadful sentence: “I’m getting married.” The moment I hear this, two feelings sweep over me at the same time. One is extreme happiness for this beloved person who has finally found what is famously known as “The One,” be it a high school sweetheart, a college lover, an officemate, a blind date, or a childhood playmate. I almost wish that at least somebody would be referring to the savior Neo who would finally destroy the Matrix.
The other feeling is an almost overwhelming urge to run away. Because frankly, it sucks. It sucks that — excluding dashing leading men on film or television who are just perfect for me (if they only knew it) — I haven’t found my own The One.
But of course, because I am definitely not a coldhearted human being, I have to sincerely impart the sweetest reactions, a skill I have mastered through time: “I am so happy for you!” or “Congratulations! I am so excited for you!” It isn’t that hard, really. But the skill, specifically the one requiring me to produce an award-winning performance, is tested when this most joyous announcement is made in person. I prefer being told by text.
I have two sets of friends: those who are married or all packed on their way there, and those who are still single.
I remember that back in high school while hanging out in school or during our endless slumber parties, we had those sacred rituals performed by female friends that involved forming a circle and talking about our ideal marrying age. My friends would think deeply about it, but some couldn’t give an answer to what was seemingly a life-changing question. I myself would answer as quickly as if I had been asked to solve a first-grade Math problem: “Twenty-five.” I turned 26 some months ago, by the way.
I used to feel ecstatic about going to weddings. It was fun to be a flower girl and a junior bridesmaid. Wearing a long gown in pastel colors at a very young age was big and exciting, as big as Christmas Eve or the first day of summer vacation. I was one of the stars at a big, enchanting event. I would be all giddy looking up at the bridesmaids and maids of honor.
It was a textbook lesson in being careful what you ask for, because once I became a bridesmaid and a maid of honor so frequently that I have compiled an excellent resumé in this field, weddings became somewhat scary and presented added, unnecessary pressure because aunts and uncles would inevitably ask, “So, when will it be your turn to get married?” And when you know deep down it won’t be happening in the near future, it becomes a nightmare in your head that you hope doesn’t show through the make-up you spent over an hour putting on.
The bouquet-throwing portion that I used to enjoy has now turned into a signal to make a momentary escape from the venue, with the bride or emcee frantically calling for me to join this now very embarrassing and frightful game.
Then there’s the part where the maid of honor makes a speech, another dreadful ordeal. Unlike the moment when a friend or relative breaks the news to me, the sweet words along with cute little stories have to be delivered in front of an audience.
But it isn’t all as bad as I might make it sound. I still adore those special, intimate moments during weddings, such as when the groom lovingly and tearfully watches his bride-to-be walking down the aisle, which was what happened at my older sister’s wedding. There are also hilarious moments such as when I have to help the bride carry her heavy, fluffy gown while she pees.
Recently my mom asked me why most of my friends are getting married at such a young age. “Most of my friends are two years older than me!” I snapped. “Don’t you remember that I entered school early? So they should be getting married already.” A simple “I don’t know” would have sufficed, but I was sure my mom was telling me to start looking seriously for, yes, The One.
It doesn’t help that my shrinking circle of single friends has this bad habit of planning our Dream Wedding. We have gone through this exercise so often that we might have outdone the preparations of athletes for the Olympics. We have even identified our “ideal wedding venues”: Baguio’s Manor Hotel, Shangri-La in Mactan, Nami Resort on Boracay, and the list goes on. We conduct fake ocular visits to these locations and let our minds run wild going through every detail of our Dream Wedding: wedding themes, wedding dates, wedding music, name it and we have it covered.
The irony is that I enjoy planning events, especially weddings. My friends, knowing how good I have become at it, usually ask for my help when they plan their weddings. That’s why I always catch myself browsing through wedding magazines and reading wedding features in the newspapers. It’s an addiction I seem unable to break. I’m even on the mailing list of a wedding website.
I enjoy watching wedding movies because I can always get fresh ideas to fulfill somebody else’s Dream Wedding. The movies where the bride isn’t the biggest star are the ones I enjoy more. I can relate more easily to the wedding planner, bridesmaid, maid of honor, the friend of the groom, heck even the wedding crasher or the band singer impersonating Boy George, instead of the bride.
I wholeheartedly and enthusiastically help my friends plan their weddings because despite my dread, the joy I get from planning events remains. I cover everything, from knowing where to find the best and cheapest flower supplier in the middle of Dangwa to befriending the stars and knowing lucky wedding dates based on feng shui. I have my planner loaded with meetings with wedding suppliers and a wedding notebook overflowing with notes and ideas. For other people’s weddings, not my own. I think I am so damn ready to plan my own wedding that I won’t even need an events planner.
My friends unfortunately still remember the marrying age I confidently told them in high school, and they keep reminding me I have already passed it. I tell them I didn’t really mean it. Hey, we were still high school. I have outgrown my virtual pet, the Tamagotchi, Beanie Babies, Trolls, my Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper, and Doc Marten boots, haven’t I?
My Dream Wedding, The One, The Perfect Venue — all that can wait, for now. Patience has always been my virtue. I have just accepted another invitation to be the maid of honor. Duty calls.
Aina Cruz, 26, has a degree in marketing management and psychology from De La Salle University and is now studying fashion styling and merchandising.
