Ms. Ellen Degeneres and Guest
You are cordially invited to the wedding of
Catherine Elizabeth Middleton
William Arthur Philip Louis
Friday April 29, 2011
At Westminster Abbey
Reception to follow at Buckingham Palace
RSVPs & Regrets
The Queen of England
I have been wanting to write a piece on the royal wedding, but I just couldn’t get interested in the royal couple. Maybe because they've been dating almost ten years. What's new to write about? Evidently, they waited this long to get married, because Prince William wanted to wait until he was older—makes sense, given he comes from divorced parents. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some hesitancy on Kate Middleton’s behalf as well, as the media has hounded her since they started spending time together in 2001. She has had a taste of the very public life she is about to enter, which I'm told isn't as fun as it looks. It still looks fun from where I sit.
I don’t know if my blasé attitude is because I find the couple uninteresting, because I’m sick of our present culture’s obsession with celebrities (did you know Lifetime is doing a movie on the royal couple called “William & Kate” and there’s even an official Royal Wedding website), or because I’m envious of the enormous rock—an 18-carat oval sapphire ring encircled by 14 large VVS1 diamonds, which belonged to Prince William’s mother, Diana Princess of Wales—and what it symbolizes.
Do I hate weddings? If so, I know who to blame—the mean girls back in grade school who conducted wedding services during every recess of the 6th grade. There would be a bride and groom, several of the mean girls would be bridesmaids, and a girl named Jody, whose sexuality was questionable even at age eleven, always played the minister. The ceremonies were complete with the exchanging of vows and tossing of flower petals—usually dandelions as they were always in abundance. The boy would kiss the girl and for the rest of that day, they would be married. The meanest girl of all was the one who selected the lucky couple. I was never chosen. I wasn’t even on the guest list.
Truthfully, I don’t hate weddings. I’m just useless at them. I always cry. I don’t know if they are tears of happiness or tears of sorrow, but I can’t control myself. If I can’t keep it together at a friend’s wedding, or a perfect stranger’s wedding for that matter, how will I be at my own wedding? Am I sentimental fool? A little. But, lately I find weddings as depressing as funerals, because I am still single.
If I ever do tie the knot, I think I’ll just elope. Not to Vegas, that’s too cliché. I don’t want to be one of those drunk brides wearing some slutty version of a wedding dress with my husband holding back my veil as I vomit on the casino host. Maybe, I’ll have a small ceremony on a vineyard in Northern California—just me, my fiancé and our closest of friends. Or maybe we’ll marry on the island of Kauai, on a cliff overlooking the ocean where no one can hear our vows over the thunderous sound of the crashing waves below.
I know I won’t have one of those big affairs that cost thousands of dollars, where nobody really wants to be there, the music is cheesy playing things like The Carpenters’ We’ve Only Just Begun and White Wedding by Billy Idol, with a bunch of people you don’t even know. And I don’t care much about the perfect cake or having the fancy Monique Lhuillier gown. All I care about is finding a great guy who loves me as much as I love him to share the rest of my life with.
Congratulations to the soon-to-be Princess Catherine for snagging a real live prince. Isn’t that what all women are looking for—their own Prince Charming? A dashing, strong man with parents who are good role models who was raised with manners, social graces, and respect for women. And, of course, a palace doesn't hurt!