I am not sure what it says about my qualities as a friend that it was only this week that I was finally appointed a bridesmaid – in my early 30s. I can only assume that, surveying their friendships, my dearest pals did not entrust their special day to the poorly organised bestie; the late one who usually forgets to text back and can commonly be found announcing: “I’ve been wearing my T-shirt back to front all night!”
In my defence, my closest friends either got married young or it’s still on the cards. I’m at peace with not being given the responsibility at 17 (the year I thought it would be cool to smoke, even though cigarettes made me woozy and in need of a lie-down), but today I am ready for the challenge. I will fulfil my duties with aplomb. My goal? To be the greatest bridesmaid there ever was, in a performance so perfect that I will be flooded with bridesmaiding offers. I will block out May to September 2022, just in case.
“Start saving now, rookie,” said a twice-bridesmaid pal of mine. “It’ll cost you a lot of money.”
“It’s a full-time job where your friend is your boss,” explained another, a three-time veteran.
My excitement has not waned. Could it be that inexperience means I cannot understand the scale of the task? I’m sure that plays a part.
But if there is one thing I have learned, it’s that from shared effort, from stress worked through together, the best relationships come. This is the wisdom of the older bridesmaid, having already been there for hirings, firings, heartbreaks, house moves and more. And so the more I hear about the work (organising pointless parties, a dress best described as “sausage chic”), the more delighted I am. I am ready for this: the World Cup final of female friendship.
That reminds me, I’d better text the bride back.
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