Never mind if you don't WANT a date to make awkward small talk with as you munch on your 18th satay skewer and mentally count down the minutes until it's acceptable to revisit your friendly and newly-favorite bartender Barry who will hook you up with a wink and a wineglass...society thinks it's better than attending events unattached.

Saying that, who wants to drag an unknown along to a reunion with your best friends? Not I, dear reader. So I didn't, hence the empty seat. And it was ok. In fact, it was great. I didn't have to pay attention to anyone but my long-lost friends, I didn't have to explain who everyone was and why I knew them and what the inside jokes were and just exactly why "that time in the kitchen..." doesn't get finished because it's too funny and involved and fraught with laughter to finish, I didn't have to make sure anyone but myself was having a wonderfully marvelous time, and I didn't have to worry about weird sleeping arrangements because I was sharing with my ex-roommate (who looked beautiful, by the way) and she doesn't snore. Ever.

There's something about a wedding that makes you reassess your life. Are you happy? Surrounded by loved ones? Enjoying what you're doing? Wanting kids? Not wanting kids? Feeling as though you're missing something by being single and living in an apartment instead of getting married and beginning a household with matching towels and shower curtains and rugs and those cute little kitchen things that you never use but really want at the store? These questions can come up at any time as I get closer and closer to the dreaded thirty (who thinks life is over at 30? they're stupidheads, entirely.), but weddings bring it into crisper focus. I love my life, and I love the lives my married friends have chosen. It's just not my path right now. I mean, I can't care for my PLANTS right now, so how can I even understand what it takes to have a legitimate, non-psycho relationship?

I'm just wondering if it ever gets easier...that twinge that reminds me that I'm a closet romantic who cries when the groom falters through his vows and the bride has all the confidence, and a baby softly hiccups during the sermon, and a reception of friends and loved ones getting down to Bon Jovi--that I really wouldn't mind having that for myself, but it's not happening this year so we're moving on, stiff upper lip and all that.

So until that happens, my 'and guest' will be any one of a number of friends who will laugh at the crazy people and mock the apparel with me until we both find our own 'and guest's. We'll face the crazy society who condescendingly smile on the other 'poor single girl who didn't find a date' while we eat our combined weight in crudites and satay. They're the best friends a girl could have. I'm not-so-lucky in love, but I'm damn lucky in friends.