I went to a bridal expo thingy today, dressed, as always, as the anti-bride (hey, gotta give some reality to these purveyors of bridal relics. Er, I mean, goods. Yeah. They’re not as bad as pardoners, eh?), wearing Neal’s oversized (on me) “golden-gophery” sweatshirt and my baggy khakis, hair pulled back in a who-cares? braid.
I asked a lot of questions about thing that possibly interested me, making these purveyors feel somewhat useful. Some had interesting spiels: “Yes, we are the most expensive restaurant in town. We just sent our caterer, who would be doing this for you, to the Cordon Bleu in France to train. Quincy needs this in the area. However, we can match or better anyone’s price in this place.” I do agree that Quincy needs a bit more class, though. Of course, it also needs some good-paying jobs and to evolve into something more than a river town or “Little Chicago”. Others weren’t as helpful. Some were too perky. Some were too pushy. Some were weird and fun: “You only need one tux? Well. I can’t help you save any money with that. If you can round up some more men, I can help you then.” (I had to wonder how many men I’m supposed to round up for a wedding. I was under the impression one was enough. Hm. Silly me.)
At the end of it all, I looked at my dad and said, “It’s weird to think that probably half of the women in this room, at least, are going to be married within the next year.”
After describing the debacle to my friend later, I amended, “And half of those will be divorced.”
“The year after that,” she added.
Hm.
What have OTHERS said in response?