You know you’re single when…

Your name is individually called out at the bouquet-toss at a wedding.

I’m not making this up. I was at a wedding recently, one of many this season…and by the way, did I miss a memo or did everyone get married over the last two years? Synchronised matrimony! Whenever somebody had “news”, I knew, without a doubt, that they would flash a sparkly engagement ring at me next. I was getting up to three calls a week from squealing new brides-to-be. And you are, of course, very happy for your friends, but you also start to feel like you’re missing the boat…all your friends are boarding the Nuptials Express and you’re letting it sail by while you smile and wave from the pier.

So there I am at the wedding, having a nice time, despite having being told “Και στα δικά σου!” (“And to your wedding one day!”) repeatedly throughout the night by the elders and it comes to the bouquet- toss…

Now I would like to make a personal appeal to brides everywhere: if you’re of a certain age, and the majority of your guests are already married, and you only have a handful of single girlfriends…a handful of single girlfriends who are fully aware of their single status considering they don’t have a date or dance partner at your wedding, please try not to further parade them in front of all your happily married guests. It was a fun little tradition in our twenties…not so funny anymore. And I say this as a person who loves weddings! I love the romance and magic of it all. I don’t, however, enjoy being herded like cattle so I can catch a bunch of flowers. A suggestion: I went to a lovely wedding where the bride dedicated her bouquet to her maid of honour. No tossing, and it fell into the hands of someone who deserved it.

So there I am, picking the icing off my slice of wedding cake and the announcement for the bouquet-toss is made. I think I’ve made it clear that I avoid this if I can, and there are usually enough girls who get up anyway. Well, not this time. The dance floor remained empty. The announcement was made again. Nothing. This meant one of two things:

a) All the other single women there felt the same as me about this embarrassing tradition, or:

 b) I was, in fact, the only single girl at this wedding.

  

Apparently, the MC opted for option B and proceeded to call me out BY NAME! “Angela! Come on, get up! All the single girls to the dancefloor!” Three hundred pairs of eyes on me (if only I hadn’t just shoveled a spoonful of cake into mouth). I smile stiffly, cheeks bulging with cake, and I give him my best “I’m going to kill you” look. 

The MC takes this as an invitation to call me up AGAIN. So I stand up, for fear that he’ll just keep calling out my name all night. My only saving grace was my two cousins, who already have boyfriends but who joined me anyway because they love me...that, and they understood by my look that they would face dismemberment otherwise. A few more girls got up too; they had only recently hit puberty, but we gathered up a little crowd and the bride tossed the damn bouquet. I watched its trajectory without emotion, or motion for that matter, and then returned to my cake.

Next time I’ll tell you about the tradition of writing single girls’ names on the sole of the bride’s shoe so they can be wiped out by the end of the night. Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up!