I used to love reading the New York Times wedding announcements, which I thought were sweet and romantic and charming. I loved reading about how two people met, and when they decided things were serious, why they decided to get married, who they wanted with them on that day. I liked to look at the photo of the day, and wonder what I wasn’t seeing. If the wedding party got too drunk and the bride got mad. If the groom played a song he wrote for his new spouse. If their grandparents cried. If I would have cried if I was there. (Answer: Yes, of course.)
Now, I read the New York Times wedding announcements and I am angry and bitter, because the pedigrees on these married people are just insane. This bride is gorgeous and sounds really cool and I wish her every happiness, but her father is an ambassador working with the president of Nigeria, who is named Goodluck Jonathan. That is a seriously great name. Her grandfather is freaking Wole Soyinka. She’s an attorney, and she met her husband at a dinner party in London. And now I’m just, like, sobbing because my parents are from the midwest and we are not a worldly family and even if I do ever get married, my wedding certainly won’t be featured in the New York Times.
It’s like browsing LinkedIn, which I need to stop doing. All these kids I went to law school with are associates at law firms with a million names and they have these gorgeous, absolutely perfect photos. I don’t want to work for a law firm, but I really want a portrait taken by whatever Photoshop genius they have taking pictures at these firms. They make my erstwhile schoolmates look completely flawless. For the record, my LinkedIn photo is me drunk on margaritas (but not obviously so) at a cantina in Atlanta.