All My Friends Are Getting Married

By Daniella D

There’s been a quick transition from all-nighters and having crushes on boys who don’t love us back to nesting, diamond rings and choosing flowers. All my friends are getting married and I don’t get the hype. 

I’ve been invited to 11 weddings this year. I don’t know if it’s something in the water my friends are drinking, a mass “drop and pop” effort on their fella’s behalves, or it just being the “right time” (I’m 27). Whatever it is, my mates are falling like dominoes and chomping at the bit to turn from a Miss to a Mrs.

Over the last year, it seemed like every second post on my news feed was news of an exciting proposal, the changing of statuses to “engaged” and snaps of the happy couple and a sparkly ring. It got to the point where I saw a pattern of peak times (summer holidays and any long weekend, particularly if the couple was up the coast/down the coast/in the Hunter Valley/interstate).

In what feels like a blink of an eye, there’s been a quick transition from all-nighters and having crushes on boys who don’t love us back to nesting, diamond rings and choosing flowers, none of which I understand or care deeply about. Let’s just say my friends have reached a level of maturity I’m not at yet. (Read Dating in Your 30s or Diary of a Dater in His 30s) 

At social events now, all the brides-to-be tend to hover together, discussing their plans for their respective big days. Those already married share their words of wisdom and handy tips (whatever they are). Those who are single roll their eyes and try not to stab the smug couples who dish out pearls of advice like “you’ll find Mr. Right one day.”

Don’t get me wrong. I love weddings. It’s just hard to maintain the excitement when it’s the third wedding I’ve been to in three weeks, and the only money I’ve spent in the last three pay cheques has been on engagement parties (can we please stop with the engagement party gift registries by the way?), kitchen teas, hen’s nights, wedding gifts and destination wedding accommodation.

As a guest, weddings are great. It’s a whole day to hang out and celebrate with your friends, get dressed up, eat great food, listen to Pachabel’s Canon in D, dance to Single Ladies/Nutbush/Macarena/Conga line, roll home with a belly full of food and wake up the next morning with a sore head.

The thought of spending $40,000 on one day (the average cost in Australia) has never really appealed to me, so I’m safe from becoming another domino in the line for a while yet. Also, white’s not my colour, people looking at me sends me into a red-faced sweaty mess, and the anxiety would mean it probably wouldn’t be very fun. (What if he doesn’t turn up? What if no one turns up? What if it rains? What if I put the wrong people at the wrong table? Should I have invited cousin Sarah’s new boyfriend? Why hasn’t the food come out yet?).

Maybe one day I’ll understand all the wedding hype, but for now, all my efforts are focused on doing the Nutbush 11 more times this year.