i was sitting on the bus today -- too early -- on my way to an interview... something didn't feel right... clothing: check... hair properly coiffed: check... microphone: check... mini-disc player: check... interview questions: presently being written...
suddenly it dawned on me that i had placed a ring on my left hand, ring finger... if you didn't know, i'm a little superstitious about this whole thing... you don't wear one, if you don't have one -- a husband that is...
i plucked it off my finger to feel the eerie lingering of its silver presence... the last time i bejeweled that finger was likely in first-year university when i donned a claddagh ring from my boyfriend at the time...
alas, i had no finger to fit it on, seeing my right ringer had no vacancy due to a large turquoise glass ring... so i slipped it back on and sported it the rest of the day... i know, i sound crazy... it's just a ring... but i got to thinking as i made my way home at the end of this epically long day... i thought about how i used to dream of marriage... i used to picture my wedding day, full of florals and off-whites... the man of my dreams... blushing bridesmaids accompanying me, the blushing bride...
now i've fallen deep into a funk of "always a bridesmaid, never a bride"... having lasted through three family weddings over the last three years, i think i'm scared off of holy matrimony... don't get me wrong, i love OTHER people's weddings -- open bar, stupid dancing, dressing up... but the more i ponder it, the more i think that maybe, just maybe, i'm no longer the marrying kind...
plus who is willing to put up with my bullshit, to death due them part? nuff said...
