Somewhere between Toronto and Vancouver I lost something. I think I lost a yearning, but I’m not so sure exactly how it happened or why. In between the many trips to Starbucks, getting lost between stucco houses, and living my busy life, I’ve discovered that I have lost the need to get wed.

 I don’t know when or how this happened. Last I checked I was still the bridal-magazine purchasing, obsessed with the latest wedding dress collections, and anxiously putting together different colour schemes for some imaginary wedding deadline that only existed in the outskirts of my mind. 

I noticed that the magazines no longer held the allure they used to for me, between their glossy covers – overpriced dresses, the same recycled ideas – it just didn’t draw me in as it used to. I noticed the jealousy pangs were also gone – when someone got engaged, when a couple in a movie were going for the next step, even hearing about celebrities getting married – I would get this twang of jealousy, it was ridiculous, this much I knew, but there was never a way of stopping it. Wait, there was, and it involved J putting a ring on my finger.

And I knew it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which made me bitter towards everything – him, life, even while shopping for meaningless kitchen items – I learnt along the way that a wedding meant a bridal shower, and a bridal shower was basically getting everything you  need to start your life together – that meant peelers, can openers and frying pans. Instead I was bitterly trying to choose a middle-of-the-road frying pan while trying not to be pissed at my boyfriend of six years.

And then there were the questions that used to keep me up at night, the ones that bothered me to my very core, the: When are you getting married? and the shock of Six years? I would’ve made him marry me at 3! How do you stand it? which the obvious answer was that I couldn’t stand it and the whole thing made me furious. When do you think he’ll propose? How the fuck should I know, seriously, am I a mind reader? Perhaps if I knew the when I wouldn’t be so pissed off in the now!

You may not know this, but I’m not only an aspiring baker, but I am a wedding planner. At the very base of my being I love romances, I love stories of love, and I love weddings more than anything. But there were times that I’d look at the ‘happy couple’, who just spent $60k on the wedding of their dreams, and I’d think why couldn’t this be me? Which would lead to more undermining of the confidence questions – what’s wrong with me? doesn’t he love me enough? when will this happen – when I’m thirty?  Oh, the shock and the horror of the big three-O.

But recently, I’ve noticed that all of these feelings, all these notions of jealousy and madness and bitterness, all of it, have seemingly disappeared. The questions don’t bother me like they used to, not at all, and the funny thing is, no one expects me to be married or otherwise – nobody seems to really care. I don’t follow any wedding blogs anymore, I don’t fantasize about the perfect letterpress invitation set, nothing. 

Where did all this go? A part of me really wonders. How could all these pent-up emotions just escape into the atmosphere without a single fatality – there were literally times I could’ve killed my boyfriend because the stupid nineteen year-old girl I hate got an ugly ring on her finger. 

When did I decide that it was okay not to get married?

I don’t even know how I can get those words out of my mouth without stuttering, seriously. I’ve written about my anger with people assuming that I was married, about how love changed me into a bitter person, about my ridonculous idea to start a wedding dress fund,  and even about daydreaming of wedding things. Before this blog I had another one, based more on fashion and tons of wedding dresses. Serious. So how did this happen, how did this all change?

And why am I questioning it? Perhaps I should be happy that I don’t feel that need anymore. It’s kinda funny because my boyfriend isn’t quite aware of the change in me yet – when are men ever aware of our inner thoughts? - and he’ll still make jokes about jewelry stores and for me not to get any ideas. But the ideas are gone.

When did I realise that it was okay to be happy and unwed - that putting one and one together didn’t necessarily mean three, but perhaps it meant four – okay, screw the analogy, but do you understand what I mean? 

I’ve grown up my whole life thinking that I’ve wanted to get married, I wanted the dress, the shoes, the horse-drawn carriage or Lamborghini depending on the theme and location – I wanted big, I wanted small, I wanted to elope, I wanted everyone I knew there – I wanted it all.

Perhaps I’ve discovered how to be happy with what I have and maybe I should stop analysing all these feelings. 

Perhaps.

xoxo

Fab Brunette
the newly un-obsessed non-bride