Hair for Hat Solution/Quick Wedding Report

Oh cherubs! Such luxury. There is nothing like sitting in a barber's chair at nine-thirty A.M. as not one but TWO lovely young ladies straighten your hair. And in my part of Edinburgh, they do it for the ridiculously low sum of 25 pounds and get excited when I give them a tip. Apparently tipping hairdressers is not mandatory ladylike behaviour in Scotland. However, I have so much hair that I really think it would be a venial sin not to tip whoever has to fix it.

Anyway, here is the result, and eventually I hope to post a photo of what I looked like in my hat, and a nice photo of Calvinist Cath, alongside a proper report.

For now all I have time to say is that today we have had mixed sun and cloud, with only a little rain--and none of it on my hair. I spent the time between hairdresser and church in lovely Morningside, hunting for ladies' tweed jackets in the charity shops.

I found the church without much trouble even though looking for a Presbyterian church in Edinburgh is like looking for a needle in a needlestack.

Cath's dress was bee-oo-tee-ful, with one million buttons down the back, and she wore a big gauzy veil. I got all weepy when she said her vows, but I didn't actually weep which is a very good thing because I forgot my tissues.

Every lady in the church was wearing a hat, though I think the Scots beat the English for hat supremacy. The groom's side of the church had a lot of black or white hats, and some ladies wore berets, whereas the bride's side was festooned with hats of many colours: mauve, cream, teal, navy, green, pink. Who says Scots Presbyterians are dour? Nonsense! The mother of the bride had the BEST hat. If I get permission, I will post a photo. Totally awesome mother-of-the-bride suit and hat.

The minister's sermon was great. I really enjoyed it. And the minister was a Scot, and thank heavens because, really, what better accent in which to give a Presbyterian sermon, eh? Oh, there was lots of Presbyterian psalm-singing, only in English, not Gaelic. I think my mother would have really enjoyed that part.

More anon! And thanks for your hairdo solutions. In the end I surveyed my hat, green silk shift dress, little pink jacket, floral pink shoes, white leather gloves, and string of pearls, and realized I was not very 1940s: I was Early 1960s.

Sun, Shine on Leith!

And on Tollcross, Portobello and all Edinburgh, for tomorrow is Calvinist Cath's wedding day!

I am very excited. I know you young things spend half your spring and summer weekends at weddings, but me, no. Nobody invites me to their weddings. So for me a wedding is an EVENT, especially when it is the wedding of a READER who, thanks to geography and Providence, became a FRIEND! Which reminds me that I have Tess's wedding present, I just haven't sent it yet because I am so bad at posting things. Hopefully it gets there before her first anniversary.

ANYWAY, I think you should all pray for Cath, my very favourite Other Single of Good Will, who is an exciting Presbyterian, just like Anne of Green Gables. As Anne was born around 1871 (which I gather as her sons fought in the First World War), Anne must have been a Westminster Confession Presbyterian rather like Cath, only Anne had odd views about the supernatural and was wont to wander about the woods seeking fairy folk and saying "Oh, Gilbert. How beautiful!" To my knowledge, Cath does have such views nor behaves in such a fashion.

PLOT SPOILER AHEAD

The other difference is that Anne got married in the woods, probably beside the Lake of Shining Waters, with only a few people around her, whereas Cath is getting married in a proper church with half the town of Stornoway (plus an RC) squished in. I suspect it looks like a Communion Sunday in Edinburgh, Hebridians shovelled into every spare bed, sofa and laundry basket to be found.

Well, perhaps I shall write a report tomorrow, for I bet few of you have ever been to a Free Presbyterian wedding service. I am sure there will be an edifying sermon, and for once the homilist will have a really good excuse for sounding like a Protestant. Oh, and the hymns cannot possibly grate upon the ear because Free Presbyterians don't have hymns, just the Psalms. There is a great Gaelic Psalm-singing tradition in the Highlands, but I digress.

Please pray for sun, not only because it is nice for the bride and the photographer but because I am getting my hair done, which I very rarely do, so how sad if it gets rained on.

Auntie Seraphic & Wedding Bell Hell

(Letter entirely rewritten for the sake of prudence.)

Dear Auntie Seraphic,

A girl I have always considered my best friend has gotten engaged. Sadly, I found out only because she sent a mass text to all her friends, including me, and then put the news on Facebook.

It is true we haven't been as close for a year or so, but we have always been like sisters. I am so hurt that she told me her news in such an impersonal way. I'm devastated.

This is not at all about jealousy over her being engaged. I'm reconciled, if not happy, about the fact that there is no man in my life. And I haven't even met her fiance.

How can I tell her, in a Christ-like fashion, how much she has hurt me? Of course I don't want to jeopardize the friendship, but I really am so disappointed and feel so rejected.

Sincerely,
Wedding Bell Hell


Dear Wedding Bell Hell,

I write this hoping that you have not done anything yet. St. Ignatius of Loyola wrote that we should never make an important decision when we are in a state of desolation, and you sound rather desolate to me!

It sounds like your friend was so excited about being engaged that she wants to tell the whole wide world at once. I hope she remembered that she and her fiance were supposed to tell their own parents first, before they texted, tweeted and facebooked the universe. I am sure her electronic methods were not a slight on you but merely a symptom of her being engaged going straight to her head.

She has now entered one of the most stressful and emotional periods of a woman's life: planning a wedding is absolutely fraught with hurt feelings, parental tantrums, pushy salesladies, sulky friends, helpless grooms and hysterical brides.

People will second-guess what she wants over and over again. The last thing she needs is a showdown with good friends over how she chose to share her happy news. If you send her any kind of reproach right now, yes, you will definitely jeopardize the friendship.

Her text does not trouble me as much as the fact that you have not met her fiance. It seems odd that such a close friend would not have met him before things got really serious. (Perhaps you two live far apart now?) I suggest that you send her a text or email back saying "I am so happy for you! I'm dying to meet the lucky man! When can we all meet up?"

As for jealousy, there is nothing like a friend getting engaged to make the other Single girls go into a short tizzy.

First of all, when a friend gets engaged, things are now different and always shall be. Her fiance is now her best friend, and that's the way it has to be. Second, as happy as we are for our friends, if we are Single, the thought lurks in the back of our minds, "What about ME?!" This thought makes us feel guilty and selfish, but as long as we don't say it to the bride, it shouldn't. It is perfectly normal, but unless we* acknowledge it to ourselves, we don't understand why we feel so crazy.

My advice is to sort out for yourself (in private) everything you feel hurt about, let go your unhappy feelings about how she chose to tell her news, and to signal that you want to continue the friendship by sending her best wishes and your hopes to meet her husband-to-be.

I don't think Christ ever did tell people how much they hurt Him, so I can't imagine how anyone would do that in a Christ-like way. I am very sure that He would like His fellow Singles to be protective of and kind to brides, though, as the first miracle He ever performed was at a wedding, and He did it so that that the wedding party would not be embarrassed before their guests.

I hope this is helpful.

Grace and peace,
Seraphic

*I say "we" because I experience something similar when I hear the news that a friend is expecting a baby.

***
It is such a fun conversation, the revelation that a friend is getting married, that I cherish very much the memory of one girl telling me in person. I have only one such memory, and I simply don't remember how I went about telling my own friends I was getting married. It couldn't have been by text because I didn't own a mobile phone at the time. I bet it was mostly over the phone--and Facebook.


Update: I stopped playing these meme games long ago, but here's a link to a Single's blog.

Auntie Seraphic & Ivana Dance!

Ah, we are in the thick of wedding season, aren't we? Ooh la la la.

Dear Auntie Seraphic,

I know that you've written about dances before, at least to some degree, but I can't find where. Since we are in the thick of wedding season, it is a topic which would be well worth bringing up again.

So, you're at a dance or wedding reception, dancing it up and having a grand old time when suddenly the song ends and on comes a "couple" dance. Maybe it's a slow dance, maybe it's a swing dance, maybe it's a two-step. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself surrounded by dancing couples who paired up so quickly it almost feels like a conspiracy. You notice, however, that not everyone has a partner yet. There are NCBs scattered about, not dancing. Some are even on the dance floor! The song isn't over yet; maybe they will see you and ask you to dance! You are presented with a few options. You could:

a) Stand on the fringe of the dance floor, looking hopeful and available so that no one needs to guess whether or not you would like to be asked.

b) Sit down near the dance floor and smile wistfully while watching the dancing couples.

c) If it is a faster song, stay on the dance floor, dancing to the music anyway with a handful of girlfriends, though not so enthusiastically that one could assume you prefer it over being asked to dance with a partner.

d) Leave the dance floor to chat with a friend. You may run the risk of not being asked, but it could still happen and at least you'll get to catch up with a friend.

e) Forfeit your chance to be asked and disappear to the washroom because you can't bear watching all the dancing couples.

f) Find a man and ask him to dance yourself.

What, in your seraphic opinion, is best? Should we ever ask a man to dance? I never do because I want to be chosen and I want the man to take the initiative. Also, I'm fairly certain that men are less likely to ask if they expect that the woman will ask. If none of us ask the men to dance, they'll have to ask us! Unfortunately, many women ask the men anyway and us non-askers are left smiling wistfully on the fringe. What to do??

Another question: Is it wise to dance (during the non-couple dances) near the men you would like to be asked by so that you are right there and ready when the "couple" song comes on? Or is this simply come off as really clingy? Does it make us too available, thus leaving the man to seek a challenge elsewhere?

Please enlighten us!

Sincerely,
Ivana Dance!


Dear Ivana,

The primary task of a Single woman at a wedding is to keep a happy smile plastered on her face and survive. When the happy smile starts to slip and the urge to say something sarcastic or ironic to someone is overwhelming, then it is time to go home.

You described the Couple Moment very well. As the Single woman's primary task at a wedding preserve her happy smile for the sake of the Bride, whose day it is, not try to meet Mr Right, I recommend you do whatever it is that you want to do except run away to the bathroom. Running away to the bathroom is a major fail and a sign that the smile has slipped and you must go home.

I recommend chatting with friends while scoping out the talent, and then, if you feel like it, asking someone you've been introduced to dance. If you haven't been introduced to any of the men, ask a female friend to dance.

One advice-giver I respect would recommend lingering around the dance floor with a happy smile plastered to your face. I don't think this is necessarily the best option for weddings, though.

I am very against women over 21 (unless Alisha and other habitual Swing Dancers) asking men to dance, but I am even more against Single women being absolutely miserable at a wedding. Sure, it is inevitable, but every guest owes it to the bride to enjoy him or herself as much as possible.

At the most boring, miserable wedding I was ever at, sandwiched between two bored and miserable fellow Single gals, it was very very hard to look happy and we all did our share of hiding in the bathroom. At the very end of this long night, some cute guys who had been seated, on the other side of the vast warehouse of a ballroom, at the "Cousins of the Bride" table spotted us and loudly exclaimed in tones of excitement and chagrin, "Hey, there were SINGLE girls here!"

If we had positioned ourselves near the Cousins of the Bride, I suspect we would have had a much better time.

Good luck!

Grace and peace,
Seraphic

P.S. to all: Hit the Label "Wedding" for everything I think and advise about Weddings. When I was still Single, my attitude was mostly "Almost all Single women feel lousy either in the later stages of the wedding reception or afterwards, so don't sweat it."

However, having had a wedding since, I also understand how important it is not to let the Bride ever, ever, EVER know that you felt this way during her wedding for she will never forget it. No matter how Bridezilla a Bride, she is the most vulnerable woman in the room, and she must be protected.

Therefore, do what you have to do to either BE or LOOK happy, even if that is leave by cab at 10 to your blankie, DVD and box of chocolates. Don't tell the Bride you're leaving. Just disappear after you have told her it was a wonderful wedding, she looks gorgeous and you are so happy for her. Maybe leave your good-byes with her mother.("Mrs Brown, I had a wonderful time, but I've got an early start tomorrow and I don't want to distract Sandra, so would you pass along my best wishes? I'm Angela by the way. Congratulations on such a lovely wedding. Thanks so much for the invitation. Good night!)

Another hint: Push the boat out. Look your best for any wedding you go to. Don't leave your prep for the last moment. Focus on being a great guest, not on meeting Mr Right. Have a treat waiting for you when you get home. Don't take the bus home alone. Get a lift or spring for the luxury of your very own cab.

Third hint: Most brides love to toss the bouquet. For the bride's sake, go smilingly along with the dumb ritual.

Fourth hint: You don't have to go to all the weddings you're invited to. You really don't. If you don't accept, but you still send a gift, the bride might very well be impressed. (Just judge how much you really mean to the Bride first. If you haven't seen her since she was 7, just send the gift.)

The White Dress Thing

Whether or not you are a virgin is nobody's business but your own.

I am repeating myself again, but I do not care. The world is sick, and one of its sicknesses is harping on whether women are virgins or not. This topic is a source of endless sniggers, and when a young woman I know chose to wear a gold rather than a white dress to her wedding, one of her female guests sniggered away. She thought the bride was revealing something about her life history. Actually, the bride just liked gold.

My first husband (to new readers: I'm not a widow; I had a a Church annulment) was obsessed with the fact that I was a virgin. You have no idea how much I wish this were a topic that had never come up. I can't remember how it did, although in Catholic circles at the time we were encouraged to be out and proud virgins, especially to non-Catholics. Although I suppose back then it gave comfort to other women to know we weren't "the only ones," what this did was alert every virgin-hunter within earshot.

There are at least two kinds of virgin-hunters. The worst kind is the one who enjoys destroying innocence and thinks he is doing something clever by "being the first." Canada's most notorious sex killer was like that. The other kind is the man who is obsessed with marrying "a virgin". In my eyes, such a fellow is somewhat akin to the woman who wants to marry "a millionaire." Both are valuing a human being for some thing they possess, not for themselves alone.

Anyway, Husband the First was indeed obsessed with the fact that I was a virgin. He mentioned it often, and he was quite interested in our choice of my wedding dress. He enjoyed saying that I, unlike so many other women, "deserved" to wear a white wedding dress. I probably agreed with this sentiment although perhaps it crossed my mind even then that no woman should be forced to confess the state of her hymen on the most public day of her life. He flipped through wedding dress magazines avidly.

His little pet name for me was "my virgin bride," and he called me that for about a year after we married. I hated it. He called me the Parthenona, too, which is one of the names of Athena, celebrating her virginity. I grew to hate that, too. It drove me crazy that my chief value to this person I had married was that I had been a virgin when I did so. And it grew clearer every day that he was horrified by my other, rather more telling, qualities, e.g. courage.

We lived not far from a neighbourhood with a significant incest problem. Neither of us knew that, of course. I found out years later. In short, a village with a terrible incest problem had emigrated, almost en masse, to Canada, and the problem continued there. I mention this to hammer home an unpleasant reality: not all women have the choice of "being virgins" when they marry. Some are seduced by male relations and told it is normal, and some are flat-out raped. The whole notion of "consent" to sexual activity is one scary ball of wax. Let's just say there's a sliding scale. Female virginity is probably more often a historical accident than it is a daily, virtuous moral choice.

Anyway, back to the white dress. The white wedding dress was popularized by Queen Victoria. Before Victoria, everyone just wore her best dress to get married in. There was a superstition that you ought not to get married in green, but beyond that, I can't think of any other pre-Victoria colour rule. And somehow white, which in India (for example) is the colour of mourning, became the western colour of virginity.

From a Catholic perspective, this should seem surprising. Our Lady is most frequently represented by the colour BLUE and in countless paintings she can be found wearing gold and pink as well. But I suppose white = virginity may derive from a sense that white = cleanliness = purity. The alb (albus (L): white) is a sign of Christian baptism. And in some Christian countries, or Chrisitian countries around the Mediterranean, it was once customary to inspect the wedding couple's bridal sheets, to see if the bride had been a virgin or not. (Ignorance of the fact that virgins do not, in fact, always bleed on their wedding nights has probably led to the completely pointless ruinations--and even murders--of thousands of women.)

Today we think inspecting or displaying bloody sheets is absolutely barbaric, but we are doing the exact same thing when we look at a beaming bride in all of her expensive finery and think "Hm. Does she DESERVE to wear that white dress?" It is so mean-spirited it makes me gnash my teeth.

A wedding dress represents not her past but the bride's feelings about her wedding day. A gorgeous white gown says nothing about her private history (which is hers alone), and everything about how she feels about starting a new life with her husband. A white dress, like a christening garment, means a new start. It means hope. It means whatever the past was like, the future is a clean page.

I know this firsthand because I wore a white dress to my second wedding. (So far only one person has been rude enough to question this decision.) I wore it because I did not want the shadow of Mr Virginity-Obsessed to mar my wedding. I wore it because that awful first marriage had been declared by the Church invalid. I wore it because I wanted to look beautiful to my husband and to be a worthy symbol of the Bride of Christ, the Church.

As far as I was concerned, my wedding was about a wonderful second chance: a new life with a completely unexpected (and perfect-for-me) husband. My mother made my dress, and we found the silk in a closing sale, so it cost the princely, extravagant sum of $80. We used lace from my first communion veil for my bridal veil. It all meant so much to me, the bride, on so many levels.

Thus I was made very uncomfortable by a snide remark about the Duchess of Cambridge, who wore a white gown to her wedding yesterday. The Duchess, unlike the late Princess of Wales, did not experience a whirlwind romance with her groom, but a ten year friendship that was probably sexually consumated years ago. Although this is not consistent with Christian teachings about marriage and sexuality, it does give the (mostly nominally Christian) British public a hope that this marriage will be both lasting and an inspiration. The Duchess's white gown was not some claim about her past but a symbol of her--and Britain's--hopes for the future.

The Gracious Guest/Bride's Eye View

One problem with emotional pain is that it corrodes the character. The number one enemy of long-term Singles who don't want to be Single is bitterness. Bitterness is a powerful enemy who must be guarded against with strong fortifications of self-care (sleep, food, exercise), gratitude, chaste friendship, enjoyable work, homemaking, humility, prayer and a sense of humour.

There are times when a Single has to retreat right behind these solid walls and shout "Battle stations!" Hearing of a friend's engagement is often one of those times. Receiving a wedding invitation is another. Feel the yucky feelings, forgive yourself, and let them go. Let them drift like phantom balloons through the ceiling into the sky out of sight.

"Oh Seraphic," wailed a friend over IM. "I have seven weddings to go to this summer. Seven!"

"That's great," I said. "You must be very popular--much more popular that me. I haven't been invited to any!"

The friend stopped wailing. She had not considered the invitations as evidence of her popularity, only as reminders that some other women--and not she--were getting married that summer.

Mass, dinner, dancing. If it weren't for the emotional upheaval, weddings would be nothing but fun, really. Local weddings, I mean. I don't think anyone ought to feel obligated to travel more than 100 miles to a wedding. If you'd rather DIE than miss it, that's quite another thing. As for the gift (I am shockingly bad at wedding gifts, but I have no money), well, it reminds me of old-fashioned children's birthday parties. You dress up, you bring a gaily wrapped present, you play traditional games, you eat cake, you drink fizzy, er, pop.

Girls often write to me about weddings, and I say the same things again and again (A) you do NOT have to go to every wedding to which you are invited; (B) almost all Single women feel Single Woman's Angst after (or, worse, during) almost all weddings; and (C) if you do accept a wedding invitation, you must never show a gloomy face while there.

Her wedding day might not, in fact, be the most important day of a woman's life, but it certainly feels like it. Take me, for example. No boyfriend in high school. Married at 25. Divorced at 26. Annulled at 27. Single until 38. It took me forever just to get used to the idea of being Single for the rest of my life, and then a fantastic guy fell in love with me and actually wanted to spend the rest of his interesting life with me. Quite understandably, I wanted to celebrate.

But not everyone else did. Readers sent in notices to quit. Near-strangers sneered at my bridal nerves. My parish priest did his best to argue I had no right to be married in his pretty church. He also preached a homily on the selfishness of brides. (We steal attention from Our Lord during the nuptial mass, you see.)**

The person who made me feel best about the whole deal (after BA, of course) was, oddly, Albus the extremely camp make-up artist at MAC. Albus was excited. Albus clapped his hands. Albus and I now wear the same same of tinted moisturizer, so I am unlikely ever to forget him. Whenever I pick up the bottle, I hear Albus say, in his sing-song voice, "Your eyes are not--tee hee hee--small; they are medium."

A bride is an emotionally fragile creature; you simply have got to be nice to her in the same way you would be nice to a woman beginning labour. I was so stressed out about my tiny home wedding that my nose started to bleed the day before. You must not argue with a bride about her wedding plans unless she is making too fierce a demand upon you personally. And you must not, on a day when she fruitlessly longs for everyone to be as happy as she is, show her how unhappy, lonely and envious you are. I know it is a cliche, but like many cliches it has the authority of truth: It's HER day.

Do not go to a wedding if you don't think you will enjoy it. It is better for the bride not to see your unhappy face, which she very well may remember for the rest of her life. It is better for you to do something you find fun that day. And if you do go to a wedding with the best of intentions and suddently find yourself crying in the Ladies', it is time to go home. Have a good cry in a stall, wash your face, fix your make-up, and leave with an Oscar-worthy smile. Take a cab, because I can't imagine a more depressing way to get home from a wedding than the night bus. Have something yummy waiting for you there, plus a good DVD, plus a blanky.

Having crossed from Single to Married, it now hurts me to imagine that any of my guests (and my guest list was draconian) might have suffered on My Day (TM). Mindful that it was a second wedding (for me, not BA--hmm, didn't think of that), the spirit of the whole thing was rather "Don't Mind Us! This Won't Take Long!" The reception lasted two and a half hours; the food was on the table pronto; there were no speeches; there were bottles and bottles of Henkell Trocken. The one insensitive thing I can think of doing was making my friends and sisters go outside for the bouquet toss. But as my first bouquet toss was such a failure (hit the ceiling, exploded), it was tremendously important that I get this one right. It wasn't about who-was-still-Single. It was about ME.

B.A. thought it a perfect wedding; now I feel aggrieved that I didn't say "**** the traditional shame of second weddings; I'm booking a ballroom!" Being so meek and unassuming was so not me and--hmm, this post is going in strange directions--my advice to Single women who find themselves suddenly not Single is to be brave and bold and rent peacocks to strut on the lawn if that is what your heart desires.

Oh my little Singles! Act on a friend's wedding day the way you hope your friends will act on yours. It's the golden rule for weddings.

** The pinpricks continue. Someone recently asked me why I wore a white dress to my second wedding. Her tone was judgmental, and I will not forget. However, to end on a cheerful note, I am so glad I was a hardliner about my wedding dress. It is white (with green buttons), it is silk, my mother made it, it is beautiful and fabulous and I love it, love it, love it!

Update: And no making snarky comments all the way through Mass or dinner. Snarky comments have a way of finding their way to the bride's ears. Snarky comments mean you shouldn't be at that wedding, eating the food the couple or their parents spent so much to provide.

Update 2: In my mind's ear I heard someone (ooh, two people! Three!) wail, But when will it be MY day? Poppets, seriously, I have no idea. Ask God right now. (I'm serious. Shut your eyes. Ask. Listen for an answer.) It's almost completely up to Him, you know.

Not on My Wedding Day, Thanks

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

I have just begun reading Andrew Cohen's mainstream column calling down blessings upon the woman he loved on her wedding day. It is EXCRUCIATING, so I don't think I'll finish it, and I won't link to it here. Instead, here's a link to a woman explaining to men why they shouldn't do things like that.

Your ex-girlfriend's or ex-boyfriend's wedding day is NEVER about you. The best way to handle it is to keep your mouth shut and your typing fingers otherwise occupied. One of my ex-boyfriends--bless him--went on holiday and came down with food poisoning so bad he forgot it was my wedding day. I'm sorry he got food poisoning, but I'm glad he did not write a weepy column on how fabulous I was and am.

The most embarrassing wedding I ever went to featured not just the photos of the bride and groom on the bulletin board outside the ballroom, but photos of the bride with her bestest friend, who was a man. The bestest friend was the M.C., and he talked more than anyone. He told us all about his relationship with the bride, and how her mother was like his second mother, and how he and the bride went to the prom together. The air crackled with tension coming out the ears of the groom's relations.

I was dating the groom's cousin, so I just sat back and experienced the excruciating embarrassment of it all with something akin to awe. Somewhat psychic about these things, I could feel the people in the room wondering A) if the M.C. had slept with the bride and B) if he would actually tell us straight out.

The groom smiled placidly. I didn't know how he could stand it. The M.C. went on and on. His obvious obsession with the bride was not lost on the D.J. who, no doubt paid in advance, observed aloud during the "Garter Toss," "The bachelors are lining up for the garter. They're pushing. They're shoving. The M.C's hurtin' for it!"

I will never forget until my dying day (or until dementia sets in) what an absolute ass the M.C. made of himself, and how bad it all looked on the bride and groom. Hmm... I wonder if he had known that in advance?