Weddings

The buzz intensifies.

Five years. Five weddings. Single every time.

It may seem like a small thing. Like one of those things that someone makes a big deal out of when they don't have any real problems to make a big deal about. It's possible, I guess. It still sucks no matter what, and I don't mean for it to be a comparison against anything else.

And so I sit here again. Trying to calculate how many times I can visit the bar before I start to get weird looks. Trying to join in to conversations concerning houses, mortgages, pregnancies, and children

This wedding is the worst. This one feels personal, even though I know it's not. It still feels that way.

We dated for six months in high school. It was our first relationship for either one of us. We didn't know what we were doing. What does love mean to any 16-year old angsty kid? Back then, just holding hands was a big deal. (I went to a Christian high school). Anyway, she's getting married to this southern gentleman. It's charming really, and I don't think I love her. I don't. You always wonder what could of been in these moments. What you have. What they have.

She has a full-time job, doesn't live with her parents, and is happily married.

Me? Not so much. No house. No car. No goals. No certain............I need a cigarette.

It's a warm Florida night, a night that doesn't really cool down ever. I do have some company though., a vague relation to the groom. It doesn't matter. She hates weddings too it seems, or just needs a break.

"I always hate these things. It's like pushing two people off a cliff and you standing back jealous that it isn't you in their place."

I smile as my response.

"Amen to that." I lift up my glass to toast. She chuckles.

"How do you distance yourself from that?" She contemplates for a second.

"You can't. But this certainly helps." She motions to her glass. I smile. She goes back inside.

I finish my cigarette.