The Bridal Shower. Barf.

I don’t think there is an event in the world any single woman despises more than The Bridal Shower. But for some inexplicable reason the tradition continues.
This weekend was the perfect reminder.

Sitting around the group of gals who somehow or somewhat knew the bride was almost unbearable. I feel guilty writing about it, because a few of them are great friends. But it still makes me want to barf.
Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.
“Ohhhhhh”, the bride-to-be squeals, “it’s a shower cap to match my slippers!” The excitement in her voice sounds almost real. I begin to wonder if I’m the only one who’s guessing that she’s faking it.
Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.
Oh God, I think. This one’s from me.
“Oh it’s beautiful!” She gasps. “A picture frame!”
I’m almost horrified that I remembered to write my name on the card.
“Oh look, it reads ‘Happiness is found in hearts that love.’ That’s sweet. Thank you Jan.”
I smile. I wonder if the entire room can see what an idiot I feel like. What was I thinking? Did I think the imprint was cute and romantic? Clearly, I wasn’t thinking at all. My only hope was that she would quickly open another gift. I couldn’t handle the pressure any longer.
My brain was suddenly consumed with finding an escape. The fire alarm dangling from behind a restaurant plant seemed like a viable option. It could be my chance. Now if I could somehow maneuver my chair closer and pull it without being noticed….I would be free. I could almost taste the fresh air.
As I continued to plot it occurred to me that I didn’t have to be there. In fact, I could have easily sent regrets.
But that’s the catch-all about bridal showers. By not going are you begrudging the joy that the couple expects to cherish for life?
I don’t know.
Maybe bridal showers offer something to a single woman in her 30’s that most parties don’t.
A tangible connection to an event that one day we all hope to celebrate for ourselves.