Thursday, January 04, 2007

Another Wedding

Is there a more dispiriting experience for the single woman?

First you have to get there. One of the few things that I suspect makes the horrors of having a relationship worth all the effort is that you can share driving and navigating duties. Trying to read a map, follow directions and all the while trying not to crash is pretty fucking difficult. Oh, for someone to sit in the passenger seat and say, ‘next left’. Especially when you’re going all the way to North Fucking Yorkshire.

Then there is the arriving alone. You get there an hour early and have to go and sit in the nearest pub by yourself until some people in suits and frocks come in and even though you don’t know them you attach yourself to them limpet-like just so you don’t have to walk into the church alone.

Then there’s the service, which let’s face it, is always piss boring.

There’s also the, ‘Have you got a boyfriend yet?’ All of the Bride’s friend’s from Up North are long-term attached good-hearted bims who don’t seem to realise that being single is not some form of abnormality.

And on to the hotel and the booze and the food. With the best of intentions, the Bride had decided to split everyone up; so my three old friends and I were all put at different tables. Except she didn’t split the couples up – they all got to hold onto their husbands/boyfriends. It won’t be so bad, I thought, assuming she’d put all of the single people together. I’d met a couple of the Bride’s single friends before – it might be good fun on the spinster table.

But I didn’t recognise a single name on the seating plan. I was sat with three couples I didn’t know and had to listen to them talk about babies and rolexes and property fucking prices before I was reunited with my real friends once the disco started.

But it was after bed-time that everything really went tits-up.

A couple of months ago I emailed the Bride to see if any of her single friends wanted to share a room. I’m really not wild keen on sharing beds, but £60 for a night in a hotel is not something I can afford. She emailed back:

"You can share with Marie. She’s staying at Posh Hotel where we’re having the reception so it’ll be £75 each."

Right. Not quite what I was after. But I figured that at least I wouldn't have to worry about getting a cab at the end of the night. Plus I was kind of intrigued as to what a £150 hotel room looks like, having only ever stayed in budget places before.

Not that impressive. It wasn’t very big, the bed was only a queen size, and the toiletries were the same as you get in a Travelodge. It did have bathrobes though – woo!

With a very long drive ahead of me the next morning I headed for bed around one, leaving the hardcore to continue partying in the hotel bar. I awoke when Marie came to bed at 4:30. She wasn’t alone.

"David is going to crash in here. We’ll top-to-tail, we’re just friends, it’ll be fine. You don’t mind, do you?"

Mind? Of course I fucking mind. The bed is barely big enough for two (especially given that Marie’s not exactly svelte), you are having a fucking laugh if you think three of us’ll fit.

"No, I don’t mind," I said.

They settled in and I went back to sleep. Until I was awoken an hour later by David’s snoring. I tried fruitlessly to get back to sleep, then eventually leaned over Marie and shoved him a few times to no avail. But I must have disturbed Marie, as she shifted in her sleep a few times until she was sleeping diagonally, leaving barely enough space for a small dog to lie in.

I got up and went for a wander through the deserted hotel, furious. I wanted to hit the road, but it had only been a few hours since I’d stopped drinking. I desperately wanted to go home, but not to die half-asleep-still-half-pissed on the M1. There were a couple of lovely big comfortable sofas in the still toasty-warm reception room. I lay down but soon realised that I wouldn’t be able to sleep without a cover.

I went back to the room. I gave Marie’s interloping leg a final half-hearted push, and this time it worked. She rolled over leaving some room – a narrow space, but just big enough for me to stretch out. Except she had taken all of the bedding with her and no amount of tugging would release her grip. I got up again in anger and frustration, resolved to take my chances with a four-hour-drive with gallons of champagne and wine and vodka still swilling round my bloodstream.

I was mentally composing the text I would send to a mutual friend saying; "Give my number to Marie, she can fucking call me if she expects me to pay for the room."

But then I spotted that the top cover, a thick, old-fashioned quilt, was wedged between Marie and David. I yanked it out (neither of them moved a muscle) and bedded down on the ground.

I thought that David might have offered some money towards the room in the morning. He didn’t.

So I paid £75 to sleep on the fucking floor.


  • A masterpiece of the expression of suffering. You think things can't get any worse and, of course, they do.

    Weddings, by law, should not have any more than four guests, or, better still, none at all. Then the oh so happy couple can wallow in their own smug gooeyness and not inflict it on other people who have to pay through the nose just to attend and buy silly bloody presents.

    By Blogger Betty, at 10:27 AM  

  • Lovely. Aren't weddings just the most beautiful, joyous occasions?

    It seems to be de rigeur to force people (especially the singletons) to sit with people they don't know at wedding receptions. Why? What's the fucking point? The only reason you bother to show up in the first place is to have a laugh with your friends.

    The happy couple know full well which of the other guests you already know and are likely to want to talk to, but instead they make you sit through an excrutiating meal with a bunch of tedious twats you don't know and will never speak to again.

    Close friend got engaged at xmas, this time I'm only accepting an invite to the wedding if a list of my demands regarding seating/sleeping arrangements are met.

    By Blogger LC, at 10:47 AM  

  • This cuts both ways, of course. When you go to the wedding of someone you only know through your partner, the last thing you want is to be seated next to some stranger when all you want to do is talk about rolexes and property prices and babies. Just before Christmas I went to a wedding in the arse end of nowhere and was put as close to the kitchen I could possibly be put without having my head in the fucking microwave. And I also had to sit next to this dullard who worked in IT. He didn't even own a Swatch.And he rented and everything. Luckily, I was pissed before the meal started.

    By Blogger Wyndham, at 10:53 AM  

  • At least Maria and David didn't fuck. That would have been a tad unseemly.

    By Blogger Tim Footman, at 11:22 AM  

  • I'm going to a wedding in a couple of weeks. Luckily its in Bristol, although the possibility of sitting with a bunch of strangers is strong I suppose.

    By Blogger Billy, at 11:30 AM  

  • I've never been able to sleep when top and tailing. So top tail top would be impossible.

    I think I'm quite a heavy sleeper myself but some people seem to go into comas.

    By Blogger Geoff, at 1:30 PM  

  • Wow. Does it get much worse? Well, I suppose it does. There could have been fumbling. So look on the bright side...

    By Blogger Loganoc, at 1:47 PM  

  • oh my god, it's like reading about the last 4 weddings I've been to!

    By Blogger M, at 2:03 PM  

  • I found for a single man, the big problem with weddings is the free alcohol.
    Picture a fat American (Used to be fat) dancing with a woman half his size (dancing means she's trying desperately to keep this guy upright) and punching in to work the next morning still drunk.
    The only time I had to bed with a stranger was at a march in Washington and he was a real died-in-the-wool hippie.

    By Blogger Nigel Patel, at 2:28 PM  

  • At the last wedding I went to I didn't drink so I could leave the same evening and drive home rather than cough up £150 for a hotel. Actually, it was OK.

    My friend L on the other hand coughed up said £150, pulled a young French waiter and spent the night shagging. That apparently was also OK.

    By Blogger GreatSheElephant, at 3:05 PM  

  • Ugh! Couples … How nauseating.
    And weddings? Why, oh why, oh why?

    I find being in a band helps. I always say I've got a gig on that night. Consequently, the only wedding I've been to in decades is that of my sound engineer.

    By Blogger dive, at 3:13 PM  

  • Oh god, I've suddenly remembered that the girls were trying to set me up with the only guy in the band who wasn't wearing a wedding ring - the trumpet player. They were up on stage, talking to him, pointing at me.

    They mean well.

    Actually, the main part of the wedding - the disco bit - was great. Plus the bride showed me and another friend her Brazilian in a quiet corner of the marquee. I've never seen that at a wedding before.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 3:45 PM  

  • Plus the bride showed me and another friend her Brazilian in a quiet corner of the marquee.

    erm, is that normal for women? Ever?? Because if the groom showed me his shaved bits at the wedding I think it would indicate he probably shouldn't have gotten married.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 4:28 PM  

  • Nope. The bride is a bit bonkers

    I have never actually looked at a woman's flange before. I don't think I ever will again.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 5:27 PM  

  • Betty said it best. I think, unless the bride/groom are immediate family or friends you'd catch a bullet for, that I'd swear off all weddings in future, if I were you.

    Good advice. I think I'll take it myself.

    By Blogger Warrior Two, at 5:32 PM  

  • NYR: Must be more assertive.

    Disturbing the sleep of the blissfully pissed is entirely unacceptable. Vengeance is required.

    I've never been to a Brazillian wedding but I imagine they may be quite good.

    By Anonymous Fidel, at 5:44 PM  

  • Bloody tragic tale. I hope you get invited to gloat at the acrimonious and messy divorce.

    By Blogger Murph, at 5:51 PM  

  • Tell me you nicked the bathrobe.

    By Blogger realdoc, at 6:19 PM  

  • Ah, my sister's wedding this year...

    Bridezilla hasn't as of yet chosen the dresses for the bridesmaids...

    But it's great being the older, plumper, less professionally successful (unmarried) sister, and I'm sure whatever dresses she chooses it won't make me want to cry...

    By Blogger Kissing just for practice, at 9:25 PM  

  • that's just wrong. marie! dave! step up, please, and do the right thing, or the muthas will be even madder.

    By Blogger mad muthas, at 10:35 PM  

  • Oh, the joys of being young! One day, you'll look back on this and laugh, you know you will. And I hope you get to laugh as much as I did reading this!

    By Blogger Mangonel, at 1:54 AM  

  • I think it should be customary, no, compulsory for both bride and groom to display their genitalia to all the guests. They could do it during the meet 'n' greet as people show for the reception.

    By Blogger Tim Footman, at 2:04 AM  

  • i can honestly say that i have never gone to a wedding and been invited to take a gawk at the brides' patootie.wow. you sure this was in yorkshire? you sure it wasn't Tennessee? did she pick up ping pong balls off the top of a champagne bottle too? classay.

    you need to spend this whole next year telling people that you're all weddinged out. declare a moratorium. send a nice card and maybe a check.

    By Blogger First Nations, at 2:08 AM  

  • Been on both sides of it and can't say that I prefer being single or married when it comes to weddings, though that may have more to do with not exactly enjoying them in the first place. Then again, it's usually fun to dress up, tear up at vows, get a bit hammered at the reception and most likely dance like an ass before stumbling to bed.

    Ah, but I've had gone nuts if my sleeping was thwarted like yours was. I admire your restraint - David and Marie may have ended up on the floor if I'd been sharing with them.

    By Blogger Melissa, at 3:59 AM  

  • Ugh. You have my deepest sympathy. In my experience, most weddings (and all group activities) suck. Worst wedding experience: my sloaney cousin's - my now-husband was NOT invited (despite the fact that we were living together (or maybe that's why)) so I ended up all single on a tableful of braying hoorays called Henry and Fenella. It was a living hell, so I just got very very drunk (and offensive, as far as I can remember).

    By the way, ny husband doesn't wear a wedding ring, chiefly because I think that they're for girls. And if anyone's getting jewellery around here, it's going to be me.

    By Blogger the plate invigilator, at 9:06 AM  

  • That - is fucking shit! I would rather sleep in my car than endure that nonsense. I can't believe you paid - they could have at least offered to split it three ways? Selfish tossers.

    By Blogger rockmother, at 10:16 AM  

  • Dear Spinny, you poor thing.

    Of course it's not alright if David sleeps in the bed. what was she thinking of? And you must have been worn out teh next day after such a disturbed night.

    Like LC said, I think next time you need to make sure you're not going to be put on your own to flounder around with strangers.

    And why are women are always showing each other their private bits?

    By Blogger looby, at 1:07 PM  

  • You poor thing.

    Still, seeing the bride's monge was a novelty.

    The last wedding I went to (in the usual posh country house), I spent £100 on a room. I was late as usual, so all the good rooms had gone and I was shown to the 'East Wing', built circa 1970 and looked like the Crossroads motel.

    (I was in North Yorks for a week over the festive season - I could have been your date).

    By Blogger Miss Meep, at 8:18 PM  

  • Wow. You are nice. One of the great joys of spinsterhood I've found is that I have permission to be a complete bitch when I want to.

    By Blogger Sassy Sundry, at 9:25 PM  

  • dang, marie should have asked david to pay.

    3 people in a queen sized bed?? you've got to be kidding me. he should have taken the extra covers and slept on the floor, leaving the bed to the girls

    By Blogger mini, at 2:51 AM  

  • David didn't offer to pay for a share of the hotel room? Then why the fuck didn't you just demand it from him?

    After a night of disturbed sleep like that I'd have had a knife at his throat by dawn.

    By Blogger Kellycat, at 9:44 AM  

  • How do you get into these situations? You really must write a book. It'll be much funnier than bloody Bridget Jones.

    By Blogger DavetheF, at 10:38 PM  

  • shit, that tops my Worst Wedding story by several orders of magnitude. kill them. kill them all.

    By Blogger Chaucer's Bitch, at 1:50 PM  

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