February 26, 2002

I keep trying to write about the big Cathy-style neurotic outburst I suffered (after my initial joy--I have to point that out--because, while admittedly wildly self-absorbed, I am not so completely egocentric that I don't experience association delight from my friends' happiness) about 10 minutes after learning of Suzanne's engagement.

I keep trying to write about it, but I think maybe I'm just too embarrassed. It's hard to explain the whole thing to someone who doesn't specifically understand that it doesn't make you horribly pathetic or even envious (well, horribly pathetic, maybe--but honestly not envious); it's just one of those fearing-change issues.

The thing is, I didn't realize until now that I fear change. I knew I fear people and overpasses and wild animal attacks and tornadoes and bees, but I'd always thought I was flexible enough to deal with something as ordinary as change. It turns out I'm not. I'm flexible enough to deal with crisis, but after you handle the crisis, everything goes back to normal. After your best friend gets married, nothing goes back to normal. Everything gets slowly different, eerie, complicated.

Unless, of course, they get divorced in 6 months--but my female friends have more grim determination than my male friends--plus we're all older now--so I know this isn't a lark. If they ever do get divorced, it will be this whole big thing. And divorced people are different than never-marrieds, anyway. That's why they get a different checkbox.

I first confessed my humiliating freakout to Rebecca, who was wondering what that incoherent, whimpering message I left on her answering machine was. I'd completely forgotten calling her about it until I emailed her "Did I tell you Suzanne was engaged?" and she replied, "Oh, that's what your message said. All I could make out was a muffled whimper and a big sigh."

You can tell someone has endured a lot of weddings to make that instant connection. Rebecca has been in more weddings than anyone I know, but I've never heard her complain about anything besides the cut of her bridesmaid dress or the cost of the plane ticket (and normally it's glee over how cheap the ticket was). Actually, Rebecca's been in more weddings that I've been to, which I'm sure has contributed to my heightened sense of drama about the whole thing. They seem like a much bigger deal when you've only been to six.

Anyway, Rebecca brushed my concerns aside, but warned (after witnessing my phone call to Sue) that I'd better quit referring to Suzanne as "one of them" if I wanted to remain friends.

But truly, I really really don't even want to get married (although damn, I'm a master of the wifely arts--but my imaginary Doris Day marriage doesn't exist anymore, so it would just be a big fat frustrating waste). I do want to be married when I'm old--mostly because I'm sure all my friends will have paired off by then & I'll need a spouse to keep getting invited. And yeah, yeah, I know getting married because you're the only single one left is the wrong reason to get married. And true and everlasting love and all that. But, still.

It was easier to be delighted with Kelly Sue's engagement. We only recently got back in touch, and she lives far away, so her marriage won't impact my day-to-day life. See how selfish I am? I can only be happy for you if I'm unaffected. God, I'm an ass.

I later confessed the whole thing to Suzanne. While she was kind, and while I know she's had bridesmaid syndrome before, I'm certain she couldn't fully empathize with my whole reaction. Because she does want to get married and have a family and all that. And because now she really is one of them. (But don't tell her I said that.)

Okay, so on the premise that confession is good for the soul, here's my reaction, more or less in order.

1. Engaged! Oh boy! Wow! That's awesome!
2. Wow! That's going to be so much fun!
3. Suzanne's getting married!
4. Why doesn't anyone want to marry me?
5. This is great! Suzanne wanted to get married!
6. I don't want to get married, though.
7. And James is perfect for her! They'll have a perfect marriage!
8. What a surprise!
9. I thought they were fighting about moving in together. What a surprise!
10. I thought he'd wait until they'd lived together for a while. Hm. I thought I was going to have more time. This is a surprise.
11. Yeah, Suzanne!
12. I'm never going to get to see her anymore. I don't see her much as it is, and now I'll never see her.
13. And then once she's actually married, forget it. They'll take all their vacations together (which they already do anyway) and make all their plans with married friends (which they already do anyway) and that'll be that. I'll be the wacky single friend who gets the obligatory party invitation, but that's it.
14. Oh my god, I'm Bridget Jones.
15. But I don't want to get married! I don't!
16. Why does everyone get married?
17. And I'm not even going to get to be in the wedding! Kelly's going to be the maid of honor.
18. I want to be in a wedding! How come I never get to be in weddings?
19. Is it because I'm a big fat selfish jerk and everyone hates me?
20. I know I'd give great showers.
21. Oh my god. She's going to have babies.
22. She's going to have babies and then everything will be about her kids and we won't ever have a conversation or play scrabble again without this big ordeal of finding a sitter or enduring constant interruptions.
23. She wasn't supposed to be a breeder. What a rip-off.
24. All she's going to talk about is her kids. I don't want to know what hilarious things her kids did. Oh god. I'm not going to be able to pretend to like them. And she's going to know it and it's going to be terribly awkward.
25. I don't want to be Auntie Nikol.
26. I am going to die old and alone covered in a blanket of dog hair. I'm going to die smothered in dog hair.
27. I don't want to be the maiden aunt. The maiden aunt and the bachelor uncle are always the weirdoes. I don't want to be a weirdo.
28. I'm acting like a weirdo.
29. The only time we'll ever talk is when they're having problems.
30. We won't take a trip together again until he dies.
31. Is Rebecca going to get married, too? Oh, god.
32. She doesn't have any sisters. Maybe I can be in her wedding.
33. Oh god I'm pathetic.
34. And I'm fat.
35. I'm a big fat pathetic spaz who's too self-involved to maintain any kind of joy over her best friend's engagement. No wonder no one wants to marry me.
36. But I don't want to get married. I don't! I don't! I really don't!
37. I'm horrible! I'm horrible!
38. And I'm old! I'm horrible and fat and old!
39. Oh god I'm Cathy. I'm Cathy! AAACCKK!!!

(All served along much hysterical sobbing, wild eye-rolling, and hand-wringing.)

Hm. I don't think that made me feel any better. I thought it would. I also thought it would be much funnier, but it's not funny at all. It's just creepy.

I'm creepy. Great.

01.31.02