Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Etc. Repeat to fade.
There isn’t going to be a wedding. I am repellent to men. Oh and I’m also a little allergic to committment. That’s not to say I wouldn’t like to get married – the big day, being the centre of attention – being squeezed into a dress that makes me look gorgeous with professional make-up artists and hair stylists to give the impression of some fairytale princess rather than a scruffy middle-aged Boho tramp who can’t wear high heels because of her knees (another story) but still thinks she could do a convincing audition for a Girls Aloud tribute act.
I’ve never been one of those girls who has the whole day planned out since the age of 13. I don’t know why, it’s just never been a priority. I’ve never been (seriously) proposed to (well, I don’t think so – if I have been, I’m really sorry I laughed) and I doubt I ever will be. I’m a mate, a ladette, a geezer-bird, a good-time-girl … but never a spinster. Well, again, I don’t think so. I’m living that wild and crazy single life that all my married friends occasionally envy. And I honestly honestly don’t ever envy the happily family lives that they all have. Except maybe when I wonder what is going to happen when I die. Will I be eaten by my starving cats who haven’t been fed for a few days? I doubt anybody will notice otherwise (another reason to blog regularly).
Anyway, back to the wedding. I could say I’d have this song:
Others have had. Allegedly. I’m not sure I could afford the right vocalist.
Being honest, if I really did get married, I’d want something from a bloody musical. Which probably explains why I’m never gonna marry. The only men who’d accept that probably don’t want a wife.
So, here’s my nod to the institution that ain’t gonna get me: