I decided to take down my last post because of the sensitive nature of the content. I gotta keep in mind- these are real people in real relationships with real feelings. Just because I'm a single troll with no prospects of a man, it doesn't mean I need to put other's relationships on blast.
One topic that is now near and dear to my heart is weddings. I currently have 5 weddings invites posted on my fridge. And every time I reach in for my Papa John's leftovers, they're staring me in the face like, "Ha ha... Enjoy your pizza! See your fat ass in a month!" Oh don't worry, there's starving kids on Lower Wacker, I don't let that shit go to waste.
As each invite taunts my rolls, I can't help but wonder, when the fuck did I get so old that all my friends are getting married... voluntarily? And they're not even knocked up! I mean, I am so happy for all my friends... and all the open bars I will be indulging in like a fat kid who just realized Burger King now delivers. However, as someone who is most likely going to be going dateless to all of these weddings, you really never know how these things are gonna go. It's a jungle out there.
It's sort of a fucked up ritual, but it all starts off at the church. Girls scoping their prey. Sizing up the usher's hands and muscles as you grip their arm tightly while they guide you to your seat like a helpless little cub. Bat your eyes and say "thank you." Which is code for, "I'm in room 809."
Alas, the ceremony closes and you can almost cut the excitement of what is about to happen with a knife. Women ascend to their rooms, tease their hair and shalack on another layer of makeup. We attack the jungle of the cocktail hour with vengeance. Gliding through the foyer, sizing up the prey, but hiding behind the suit jacket lapels and mini dresses like a lion hiding behind bushes. Dinner is a bleak affair, trying not to eat too much because you know the main course is Jack Daniels and Tequila.
The dance floor is where you mark your territory. You "bump" into the prey you have been circling. You dance, spill drinks on each other and step on each other's feet. You take a bathroom break and realize this is the "make or break it" moment. When you return to the jungle, he's either there waiting for you, drink in hand, or he's been scooped up by another lion. Chances are, he's been scooped up.
You end the night one of two ways: apologizing to your neighbor for being so loud, or like me, you end up going to bed at 11:00pm, sprawled out hugging a drool-covered pillow. I can't conquer the jungle... It's just too fierce. So mock me all you want, invites sitting on my fridge- Gimme an open bar, a 90s hip-hop themed reception and a pair of flats, and I'm good to go.