October 08, 2003 @ 9:40 p.m.
All My Friends Are Getting Married (Even Though They've Presumably Consummated the Relationship Already So It's Kind of Pointless Really).

One of my friends from high school got married last weekend. She's six months older than me, which makes her a whopping 21.

I will give you a moment to ponder the sheer idiocy of this action.

Done? Excellent. I'm still a tad freaked out by the whole thing. I wasn't invited - I've barely seen her over the past five years or so, although we used to be close during the early and middle years of high school - and I think that's a good thing. I think I would have freaked out.

I guess this is what happens when people go and get religion. I think I'll stick to sin like the good lapsed whatever-the-hell-religion-I'm-supposed-to-be I am. Actually, I'm not really a lapsed anything, having never been baptised/christened/otherwise rescued from the fiery clutches of Hell. I guess all my relatives, having had their fancy ceremonies, did the lapsing for me. We're just not all that good with that whole god business.

But getting back to my friend, well, I wouldn't have guessed this as being the path from her. We used to be sluts together, damn it! Well, sluts in the way that only virgin teenage girls really can be, I suppose. Which isn't really slutty in the true sense of the word, but we did our best. Learning to gargle semen effectively takes practice, damn it.

It's just weird though. At the risk of sounding really tasteless and insensitive, it's kind of like when you find out someone around the same age as you has died and it makes you reflect on your own mortality. Maybe I'm being forced to reflect on my own marriagetality. In which case, it's not looking good because I'm coming up with a great big bleeaargh. I guess that puts paid to the dream I've always had about finding a nice abusive alcoholic, moving to Moe and squeezing out a few sprogs by 23.

And two of my close female friends (one of whom is an ex-girlfriend) are doing or about to do the whole shacking-up-with-boyfriend thing. It's really quite terrifying. Except when it makes people start asking when Stuart and I are going to live together. Then it's just annoying.

The answer to that question, incidentally, involves a spatula, a Bloodsucking Freaks CD, a French maid's outfit, and William Gibson.

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