I am not a romantic person. There are very few sentimental veins in my body. But when I see every person in my Facebook / Instagram / Twitter / [future social media leader] feed post engagement or wedding photos, my heart is inexplicably warmed and I can’t wait to post my own.
The only difference is that my engagement photos are probably going to be at, like, Dave & Busters and my wedding photos will probably be taken exclusively on disposable cameras provided at every table at the reception and/or whatever device we’re using to capture moments that year.
Here’s the weird thing. Half of my closet is filled with dresses and heels. Half of it is hoodies and jeans. My entire personal life can be described exclusively through quotes from the TV show ’30 Rock,’ and I take trips to other continents by myself. I’m an independent woman (insert z-snap here) and also not entirely traditional. I’m also entirely traditional.
I read an article not so long ago that stated the smarter a person is, the more likely that person is to be single. I am single, but I also was not accepted to MENSA when I took the test last year. (To be fair, I was 3 off from the qualifying score, so I could be positively or negatively affected by a retake. #humblebrag) I don’t want to lean on something like that as an excuse, especially since Stephen Hawking married and I’m obviously very comparable to him.
Listen, I value a stable paycheck and regular exercise, as I should. I subscribe to modern requirements for health in social / professional / physical / mental / spiritual categories. But I see the world in my own way.
I’m not going to tell you that I’m a unicorn. I’m saying that everyone is a unicorn, and some unicorns have more in common with each other than other unicorns do. A lot of unicorns have a more common Myers-Briggs type. Certain unicorns, like myself, have the rarest Myers-Briggs type.
WAIT. BREAKTHROUGH. IS THIS WHY I AM SINGLE? Ok, I guess that ENTJs everywhere must probably be single. Except my father, as he has been happily married for 40 years. Damn. Myth = busted.
So back to those engagement photos. Would anyone think it’s awful if I’m wearing a beautiful dress (or perhaps a jumpsuit, since tall babes can rock them) but in the pictures I am doing something fun so that my smile is real? Suggestions include (and I’m just spitballing here): dancing on a lit-up dance floor, playing beer prosecco pong, staring intently at my cat in his bow tie, or talking smack regarding how the Seahawks are way better than whatever team my future husband likes.
As I write this, I am 97% sure that none of this is true, and that I will probably get married on a lush golf course somewhere with luscious flowing locks and the sleekest white gown because that works for tall women, and that my vision board will probably be filled with snapshots of my actual, present-day woman crush Amal Alamuddin Clooney. But right now, I really enjoy playing games and watching stupid YouTube videos with people while eating tuna melts at 24 hour diners.
For now, I’m going to cherish the obscurity of my humor and the even more obscure depth of pop culture knowledge I possess. Then, one day I will either learn to suppress it, or someone will understand it and make it better. And then we will get engaged inside the ball pit at a McDonald’s. Or something like that.
Who’s with me?
