“Love is patient.  Love is kind….”

How many fucking weddings have been ruined by the utterance of that damned verse?

Shifting uncomfortable in my seat, I make with smoothing my skirt to keep my mind composed.  That, ans to avoid the stares of wedding goers at the audible sigh that came from me when I realize that in this moment I’m wishing for an aneurism or avian flu.  It’s not that I’m not happy for my friend, it’s just that deadlines don’t meet themselves.  We were friends, Brooke and I, at the sorority at Alfred University and let me tell you, she couldn’t stay with the same hair stylist for more than six months.  This isn’t expected to last long.

You’d think I’d have Corinthians memorized for all the times I’ve heard couple after coupld uniquely express their love through it.

At twenty-six years of age, I’ve made an artform out of going to weddings stage.  Never appear available.  Be distant, but not removed, and get out alive and in one piece.

Maybe pinstripe was a bit harsh for this one.  I know I should have worn the navy suit.  Didn’t Blair say that the new editor liked eggplant though?

Lost in thoughts of patterns and jewel tones, things couldn’t have gotten much lower….Then, he walked in the room.

If there’s anything you hope for when attending a wedding…eternal love for the bride and groom, low-fat pastries, and an open bar there’s one thingyou wish for subconciously when you’re one of the only single girls there; to not see anyone you know in any capacity other than the side you’ll be rooting for when the divorce papers come in.  That shoul be easy in a city like Chicago, but surpringly it isn’t.  Everyone’s gotta marry someone and that someone’s gotta know someone else and before you know it, that one night stand to relieve some stress from the Chanel account deadline two bachlorette parties ago is staring at you across the punch bowl with a big “round-two” grin on his smug face.  Too bad it was more like “round 1 1/2.”

Too bad.  He was so highly recommended.

Maybe I should have worn a potato sack, or a muu-muu.  Anything that would make him stop staring at me.  Ugh!  I might not be that ba.  Could I be that desperate?  Lemme think.  No.