Build-a-Boyfriend Workshop

Just keep smiling, just keep smiling.

I kept that phrase on an infinite loop in my head as I moved through the reception hall, in weak hopes to avoid any more socialization. Despite the mantra, my cheeks were starting to feel stiff from having to hold the polite smile for so many pictures and conversations. I don’t even like being photographed; if there was a scale of camera-friendly, I resided on the polar opposite of ‘Photogenic’, lost somewhere between ‘Cursed by Camera’ and ‘Shitty in Stills’. But of course, picture taking was everything during weddings.

Skillfully avoiding the flashes and awkward camera angles, I made my way out of the reception hall and made a bee-line for the nearest exit. I ducked into the bathroom of the venue, smiling tightly at a model-esque girl as she brushed past me on the way out. Did I even know her? No, of course not.

I was the stranger that braved to come stag, destined for a night of awkwardness at the singles table.

Outside of the bride and her sisters, I didn’t know anyone here. But I was avoiding them too, because it was soon time for the bouquet toss ritual and they had previously threatened to come find me personally to drag me to the dance floor as a forced participant.
‘Your single ass will be out there on the floor, no questions!’ was the command by the maid of honor.

I knew “Anything for the Bride” was a thing, but did that extend to the whole family?

Quickly, I slid into an open stall and closed the door behind me. In my temporary sanctuary, I finally relaxed.

“Oohhh…”

I groaned out a sigh, massaging my sore cheeks. My facial muscles weren’t used to holding such an unnatural position for so long. The pause allowed me to finally mull over the apparent hot-topic of the night: relationship status and love.
What was people’s fixation with the status of my love life? Was me going stag to a wedding so bad? Maybe it was just that fact that this was a wedding, the ultimate celebration of love and two people who found it. But it didn’t help that there was the plot-twist I had no warning to: everyone else at the infamous singles table brought a plus-one, one guest even claiming to bring his “third swipe right”.

My brain started to rank all the questions received so far into the evening from blunt to just plain offensive. When I received these comments, I only politely smiled and laughed nervously as I tried to maintain some form of tact.

“You should find the right boy for you!” But… why should I?
“Aww… it’s alright! You’ll find someone soon!” Do NOT give me those sad doe eyes.
“It’s not like you’re… not pretty or anything.” Excuse me, was the pause left for my intelligence and charisma by chance? I have a great personality.
“Why not? Why don’t you date?” Why can’t I be single and happy?
“Girl… you should smile more.” You should talk less.
“Single? Hey… I can help you with that tonight…” Hard. Fucking. Pass.
“So… How old are you, exactly?” Old enough to understand this question is creepy.

And then there were those that mentioned “my eggs drying up” and my apparently ailing biological clock.
To those comments… mind your own sagging eggs.

But no… Oh dear, no… the polite, my mindfully tactful self just settled with a nervous giggle and shifty eyes before letting the lack of eye contact put the conversation out of its misery.

I gave myself a few more moments of peace before flushing the unused toilet and stepping out.
Even if I wanted a boyfriend… Even if…

That thought stopped midway through and I stopped in front of the sink, catching my stunned expression in the mirror.
Even if what?

A loud laughter echoed into the small bathroom from the other side of the door and I quickly turned on the faucet as a group of girls stumbled in. Quickly I went through the motions of washing my hands and grabbed a paper towel on the way out. Keeping my eyes on the ground I walked out of the bathroom and continued out the reception venue to find outside to be in a state of torrential downpour.
Did I want to meet a guy?

Where was this thought coming from? So what if I was single? A man in my life wouldn’t stop the weather from being utter crap, and it certainly wouldn’t stop my feet from pinching horribly in these heels.
God, I missed my bed and sweatpants.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled before pulling my war face back on and squaring my shoulders back to the reception hall. I can get through this night, all I had to do was keep an eye on the prize. It was so close I could almost taste victory.

One hour. The only thing separating me from getting some of that wedding cake.