As a single woman in her 60s, there is something I have learned along the way to getting here – it is far easier to travel alone to a foreign country than go to a wedding solo.
A few things to qualify this. If it’s a family wedding it doesn’t count because I know everyone there and I’m a non-stop dance floor gal. It’s usually a blast.
Also, this is not a reflection on the couple getting married or my desire to be there. If I don’t want to go, that’s a simple no. I am thrilled when people find love and want to make it a formal commitment.
This is about something very different.
I have always been single, mostly happily. I love living alone. I like myself, my life, my community, my friends, my choices. So to be clear, I don’t attach any kind of status to marriage or assume married people are happier or better adjusted. Some of the loneliest people I know and some of the most well-rounded people I know are in marriages.
I’ve traveled all over the United States alone. Been to the Caribbean on my own. Flew to Paris and the South of France solo. Went to Italy by myself. But navigating a cocktail hour when at a first glance I see no one I know? Not good. The butterflies have been let loose.
My first instinct is to flee. Which I did last week at an opulent wedding I attended. Right to the restroom with its easy chair and huge sparkling chandelier. I had to regroup.
I eventually ran into people I knew and joined them. So I got to partake in cocktail hour conversation and sumptuous fare – lobster ravioli, mini crab cakes, a glass of ice-cold Sauvignon Blanc. Yessssss.
Once in the main reception room where we had assigned seats, it was much more relaxing. As courses were being served and all eyes were on the dance floor for introductions of the bride and groom, their parents (my dear friend was the mother of the groom), bridal party and special dances, I applauded and wiped away a few tears. I talked easily to people at the table, including a priest who had been a pastor at my elementary school in the early 1970s. What a hoot.
I had hired a car to drive me to the reception, and my driver – just a standup woman – knew of my nervousness and agreed to sit in the parking lot for a few minutes so I didn’t have to go in right away. Ahhhhh.
Why do I feel the need to share all this?
One, I like being authentic. I went to the function because I wanted to share in my friend’s joy for her son. I don’t think it serves anyone to pretend everything in life is easy. This is a relatable, if not earth-shattering, problem and I know it will help some people to read this.
Two, the feeling of showing up for someone you care about is so satisfying. I got to reconnect with some people. I got to stand on a dance floor with about 200 people of all ages and yell the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody while the photography team took a group shot. It was exhilarating.
We need to partake in these celebratory moments sometimes to feel alive and of the world. I admit I was scared to go, but it was the right (and most fun!) thing to do.
Another life challenge met. Whew.
[Editorial Note: This is my 29th installment in a series I began in order to give my writing some flow after being in a healing phase from knee surgeries for a year (2023-24).]
