I’ve been invited to five weddings this year. So far I’ve attended three and been single at three. Being single at a wedding is a curious affair. It’s not unpleasant, by any means. It’s actually rather fun, as long as no-one’s there to chaperone you into a night of boring in-excess (not to be confused with INXS, though both can be considered boring).
Below are a few key tips I’ve picked up thus far in my travels through marital celebrations:
1. People won’t respect your single status
The first thing to remember is that everyone else there will think you’re in want of a partner. They will expend a large amount of conversational effort on this subject and you probably won’t be able to divert their attention away from it for any substantial amount of time. You will not be able to convince anyone that you’re in no need of a long-term partner. You’re at a wedding. You’re celebrating long-term partnership. If you don’t believe in it, why are you there? Do you hate the friends you’ve come here to support? Do you wish their marriage ill? That’s what they’ll think. To be fair, you probably are looking for one anyway, aren’t you? I mean, if you happen to meet someone amazing and fantastic at a wedding, of all places, you’re not likely to rebuff them on account of your previously held lone-wolf convictions, are you? I thought not.
Oh, I should just clarify, if you’re there on your own, but you’re not actually single, then you don’t count. Stop complaining. For a start, you can spend the whole time talking about where your partner is and what they do for a living - by leaving them at home you’ve skilfully increased your conversational capacity by 100%. Not only can you talk about you, you can also talk about them. So you don’t have my sympathy.
2. Dress to impress
It’s not just a lazily constructed rhyme. It does actually mean something. Unfortunately, the meaning is lost on me so I usually get someone else to dress me. Not physically (if I could find a girl to literally dress me every day I wouldn’t be writing articles about being single), but it’s worth getting a friend with a sense of occasion, decorum and taste to help with the wedding outfit, otherwise you’re just going to end up wearing that suit you’ve owned for 16 years, that white shirt with the stain on the arm and that tie with a dragon on it that you think is really cool. Just me?
3. Go on your own
Bit of a no-brainer this. If you’re going to the wedding as a singleton, for the love of god don’t bring along a friend, especially not one of the opposite sex. If you get a plus one on the invite, just ignore it. It’s not a requirement. It’s not a stipulation of attendance. The bride and groom will probably thank you for not cluttering up their joyful celebration with some random they don’t know, that they are having to pay for.
If you do bring someone, everyone will just assume you‘re an item. Or that you want to be an item. Maybe you do. Isn’t that why you invited them? No? Really? I think you’ve got a bit of soul-searching to do. But not right now, you’re at a wedding.
4. Book a double room.
You’re not going to get lucky. Accept it. However, you’re also not five years old anymore. Get a double room.
5. Don’t talk to anyone
Seriously. They’re all married anyway. They’ve probably got kids running around the reception hall at this very moment, getting in everyone’s way and ruining a perfectly good piss-up. Why do people bring children to weddings? If they can afford to rent a room for the night, get a new suit and a new dress, why can’t they afford to leave their kids at their grandmother’s? Or check them in at the airport lost and found for a day or two? You’d be doing the kids a favour - I’m 29 and I still find the non-alcohol-based bits of weddings mind-numbingly dull. How kids are expected to sit through a full day of boring hymns, sermons, and speeches without alcohol is anyone’s guess. You’d be making a fuss too if you were that bored. Or you’re already drunk, in which case stop making a fool of yourself.
5a. Wait for the singles to gather
As a caveat to the above, eventually you will have to talk to someone (lest you look like a prowling maniac, glowering in the corner of the dance floor). Fortunately, a group of single people will emerge, previously unseen (usually by the bar or the table with the largest selection of free wine). It’s a sort of social ESP that means singles tractor-beam in on each other, once the drink starts to flow.
Join their conversation with a simple:
“Hahahahahaha, classic. I’m ____ by the way”
And then you’re away, with like-minded souls, enjoying a night of revelry at which all couples will tut and judge (if they haven’t already left to put their children to bed), and which you’ll probably never remember.
And when the bouquet is thrown, you’ll be outside having a cigarette. And when the toasts are given, you’ll be at the bar, knocking back a sambuca. And when the dance is on, you’ll be there, looking like a tit.
But that’s ok. Because you’re single. And that’s what you’re expected to do. And you’d probably be doing it anyway.
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