My Wedding

From as early as I could remember, I never wanted to get married. I remember being twelve years old and one of my fellow girl scouts asked me if I ever wanted to get married.
“No.”
“Well, do you want to have kids?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I frequently imagine want my wedding would be like.
“Hey Val! Do you wanna go to Vegas?”
“Hell yes! I love Vegas! What did you want to do when we get there?”
“I was thinking we would get married.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Just drink this drink I made you.” I wake up naked in a hotel room in Vegas wearing a strange ring on my left ring finger and wonder why there is a naked man demanding to have sex with me. Sounds like what every little girl dreams of.
The strangest parts of weddings are class affairs. I am particularly speaking of the South of the United States. There, little children are taught etiquette and how to dance and all the weddings are entirely formal affairs. No wedding buffets in sight. In the South, when a girl reaches puberty, she is given a gun and tiara, and has a microchip implanted in her brain that will make her think that she must be married by the time she is 22 years old. It seems like the feminist movement and liberation stopped when it hit the Mason- Dixon line.
I just hate weddings.