Like Flies

A friend of mine is getting married. Such events mark time, and so I got to thinking about how many friends have been married so far. I've only been to so many personally. There would be three that I can think of with this fourth one to come. There are some others that I did not make it to for one reason or another. I'm sure I've gone into this before, but it's unsettling to reach the point where the timing of the wedding is unremarkable.

The first wedding I can think of attending was remarkable in that the couple were perhaps young to be married. The ones since then have each taken place at a more and more natural time in the lives of the couple. It's upsetting to think that it makes perfect sense that they should be getting married, and less sense that the rest of us should not be. I guess I must have as much a biological clock as anybody, considering the feelings stirred up.

People are pairing up. I can keep from thinking about it in a negative way, although that means largely keeping from thinking about it at all. Things still seep into my mind. If I'm invited to attend, I'm delighted to do so, but I'm also very aggrieved by the impositions on me. I also have to go and learn a lot of new surnames for lady friends. I admit that new names can be a blessing if the old name was hard to pronounce or to remember.

Soon enough, more will be married than unmarried, and I hope I'm in the former group. It's a lot like a party, I think. The group of singles is fun to be in so long as there are plenty, but when it gets down to the last two or three, it's pretty grim. I've been the last party guest remaining, and I don't intend to be again, particularly when the consequences are so unpleasant as it seems they must be if we're talking about being single still in middle age and beyond.